Lucid Memories
by RainSonata
Summary: Just as the American Revolution War is almost done,Rev!America switches places with the present day America by unknown means. Now in the year 2005,he tries to adapt to his new environment,still with a broken heart.US/UK kink meme. M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: Regret

**Blast from the Revolution! Past Mayhem**

**Chapter 1: Regret**

* * *

A side project from The Red Flower…

**_READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING:_**

BTW, this will be my first romance fic. I'm not going to ask you guys to go easy on me. I'm doing the opposite. **I want you guys to criticize me.** **Tell me what to improve in my writing!** **Story wise and grammatical wise! Tell me in your reviews! **I want this fic to come out as a success!

**_This will not be uploaded on a weekly basis, rating may rise due to the contents of the outcome of the story. Thank you for reading this message. It is much appreciated._**

**_Both human names and nation names will be used. Human names will tend to be used depending on how close characters feel to each other. _**

**_

* * *

  
_**

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? UK/US, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Rain poured down that day. The cold liquid splashed on America's face as he stared at the dark grey skies extending above him. Tip, tap, tip, tap. The rhythm of the small raindrops tapped in repetition. The American was too tired to be annoyed by the inconvenient weather. Too tired to be aware that fighting would be bad in this type of condition.

Somehow… somehow… he knew that on that today… he would have to face _him_. Just him. No one else. There would be no one to interfere. Not his men. Not even France **(1)**.

The young boy felt his hand tighten his grip of his musket. Days of downpour had started to take effect on the feeble weapon. His army was weak and starving. The food's supplies would soon run out. If this went on, they would soon die from hunger!

His dirty blond hair was wet and damp. His knuckles were bleeding. His once true blue uniform that he was so proud of was now covered with blood and slime. A fine blue coat trimmed with strips of velvety red. It was just like England's. Except that it was blue, rather than that stunning red coat that stood out so clearly in the battlefield. Very impractical.

England… the teenager thought of his former guardian. The very man whom he had looked up to. The one who took care of him, fed him, nourished him. His big brother.

_No!_ He told himself. _He's not my brother! Not anymore!_ He thought, crying as he marched along with his men. The soft plat on the ground, foot against unstable soil, was ignored by the blond. This was not an unusual sight. He wasn't the only one crying. There were others who had cried over their wives, their children, their brothers, their _family_.

He felt like an orphan. He had no family to cry of. He never knew of his parents' identity. Were they like him? A nation? Or were they just mortals who passed away as quickly as they came? He didn't even know what they looked like.

His men were getting ready. Another battle was coming up.

Matthew, his twin brother… the boy was just like him in many ways, but was also the polar opposite of him. He was the personification of Canada. Just like he was the personification of America; but unlike his older brother, Canada was quieter. Better behaved. He was England's favorite. _The stupid Tory_, he thought. He gave him the chance to join him in pursue of independence, but his twin refused, staying loyal to England. Alfred saw this as a sign of betrayal. No brother of his would side with the enemy, right?

Their muskets were ready.

Francis was there, but he was no family either. He remembered how the Frenchman had tried to persuade the young American colony of joining him back than. When he chose England over France. He had a feeling that the Frenchman only wanted to help him out of revenge. To get back at England for taking away his Mathieu. His New France. His Canada. Or did the French nation only wanted his twin brother as a replacement of him? Anger bubbled underneath him. To an outsider, he was as cool as a cucumber. As much as Alfred hated to admit, he was probably just a tool in the eyes of the older nation. Just like how England had used him.

The rain poured harder, pelting his men like hail.

A sense of self pity plunged into the deep pit of Alfred's heart. He thought that England had loved him. Wasn't that why he wanted the American colony in the first place? Or did he just want him for his own self pleasure? Just to use him as a human trophy? To show the world how strong the British Empire was?

Cries of the enemy were heard clearly across the battlefront.

When they first met, England had shown him everything. How to cook, well, at least how to not burn something; clean, take care of himself, and his culture. Heck, his 'people', those who had migrated to America, were devoted to this Puritan belief. It was his first taste of European culture.

They were approaching. The redcoats were coming!

The English nation would come and go, much to the small colony's reluctance, and would often leave him to take care of himself for extension of periods. He was okay with that. Because England would always come back. Just like he said he would.

But… soon… the taxes came… His big brother soon started to charge them with ridiculous taxes. That was hardly fair. The English man didn't even bother including them with representatives in the Parliament! His people, the Americans, started to rebel. They tried to cooperate with England. _He_ tried to cooperate with England. He only wanted to stay being his little brother. Was that asking too much? He only wanted to be with him. Those pitiful attempts of union soon became attempts of rebellion. He was his own nation. He had his own people to worry of. He wanted to seek independence. To break away from England. That was all.

Alfred found his weak voice; "Hey England…" it cracked and was hoarse from exhaustion as he gave a weak smile to the man in front of him. His tears fell. Or was that just the rain?

"I guess I chose liberty after all…" Dull green eyes stared back at him. He had a desperate look in his eyes. No… The Englishman looked so small. So weak… Was this the England he knew?

"I'm not your child," Alfred gave full eye contact to him, continuing with his sentence. "Or your baby brother anymore…" He felt his wide eyes staring back, there was shock and sadness in those pupils.

England whispered. "America… I…"

Was it hate? Did England hate him? After all of the fighting they have gone through? The Boston Tea Party, the killing, the punishment his men inflicted on the Loyalists? He had to hate him. Who wouldn't? What kind of man would keep on loving someone who broke away from them?

No… This had to end. Now! He tried to reason with England. He tried. Alfred attempted to persuade himself. His people were taxed. Taxed for a war that had nothing to do with him. It was just a stupid war between him and the French nation. He didn't even considered him to be his brother! Just a thing. A piece of land. His property. He didn't see him as a human being…

He. America. Was going to break the last link. The last link that connected them.

Alfred quietly said the words. Loud and clear. "England." England already had all of his focus on him. "From now on…" The words were stuck. He couldn't breath! He felt this strange feeling of regret cluttered in his throat.

He started again. "From now on… I am independent." Lightning clashed in the background. "Acknowledge it!" He was breathless.

His eyes narrowed. England's eyes. The older nation shoved his musket towards him with no warning. Alfred instantly used jumped into his reflex and blocked his attack with his own. His heart stopped.

Why weren't his men doing anything? Alfred didn't bother to look back. They were either too shocked by the sudden attack or they just somehow knew that they shouldn't interfere with the fighting immortals. This was their fight.

So America was shocked when he heard the old man murmur. "You were always so naïve… you fool…" He was still pointing his weapon at the boy; the musket was shaking in his hand, America heard the splash on the ground. He had dropped his musket. His only weapon. He had nothing to defend himself with.

"You fool…" England moaned. "You idiot… There's no point in firing anymore is there…?" He was crying. Alfred couldn't take his eyes away from England. No… Arthur…

"Damn it!" He cursed, "Why?! Damn…" England collapsed.

"E-england?" Alfred called out his name, but it sounded more like a question rather than a statement. His eyes grew hazy…

_Arthur and Alfred were playing in the woods… America's woods. The soft moist grass was sprayed with dew, reflecting numerous colors in them. The soft callings of the songbirds were heard off from the far distance. The small eight year old America was holding onto a sun hat. Everyday felt like it would last forever. Just him and England. They would eat together, play games of hopscotch or tag; he would help him set up tea parties… _

"_Let's go home." England smiled, his hands held out to reach him, the bright golden sun shone on his light corn blond bangs. His emerald green eyes glisten with warmth and delight. Alfred's small hands held out to reach them. _

"England…" Alfred felt the warm tears tickle down his face. "You used to be…" Why? "…so big…" He stared at his former guardian. He felt so stiff. He had won… He had won…

Independence. The word was so lovely when it was first introduced to him, but was it really worth it? This independence? He did not feel the happiness and relief that he thought he would have felt. The two armies that were one fighting against each other just stood there, staring at their countries.

_England… Do you still hate me? I…_ Before a complete thought formed, the independent boy's mind faded away, as he fell into unconsciousness.

England stared at the boy. No! Alfred? His emerald eyes widened as he went up to him, embracing him in his arms.

"America?" He whispered. Wake up damn it! The bloody fool. "Alfred? ALFRED!"

The English gentlemen cried as he shook the boy, realizing that he was knocked out. The men surrounding him only looked solemnly at the fallen boy. The rain continued to pour down hard.

_Alfred… _

* * *

Author Notes: This is just an introduction; hopefully, the next few chapters will improve and be more interesting for you guys.

France **(1)** – France did most of the fighting for the Americans. If it weren't for them, the American probably would have lost to the British army. It also helped that a certain Prussian general trained America into shape.


	2. Chapter 2: Blackout

**Blast from the Revolution! Past Mayhem**

**Chapter 2: Blackout**

* * *

Notes: I don't think there will be anything really happening until the next chapter. Keep waiting for the next update! The chapter will extend its length when there is more to write about. If anyone has ideas, be sure to review! **Always review!** **It boosts my Writer's Flow (the opposite of Writer's Block) and it make us both happy! Write a review and I'll write a new chapter! Simple enough. **

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Present Time…

"Thanks for stopping by, England!" A certain loud blond thanked the Englishman. England grunted in response.

It was a typical sunny afternoon in West Virginia. America and England were sitting at the kitchen table, eating their lunch together. Arthur was surprised that the food wasn't hamburgers or a meal from McDonald's. He wondered where he had gone wrong with that boy… he never seems to eat anything except those blasted burgers these days…

What was the Englishman doing in America's house? He was coming by to visit him. This was nothing out of the ordinary. This was one of the times when Arthur would come to stay at Alfred's house in West Virginia, far from D.C. Living in the capitol was annoying sometimes, with all the politicians walking in and out though the whole day. It was troublesome. The American's house was actually out in the near suburbs, close to the city.

Alfred's kitchen was small. It was painted yellow, to bring in sunshine into the room. Not like it already has with the idiot's happy going personality. Besides the stove and fridge was the kitchen table, fit for two.

The last time Arthur came by, the American was living in a bigger house that was fit for several families. Than again… it was when he had fifty kids or so underneath his roof. It was strange to think of his former colony as a father. The thought of it made him feel old.

He stared down at the drooping turkey sandwich that has been sitting on his plate for awhile. The sandwich was quickly slapped together at the last minute by the way everything seemed to be stacked on here and there. Well, at least it wasn't a burger. .

"What's wrong?" England felt Alfred staring at him as he examined his lunch. His curiosity sounded sincere. There was no hint of laughing behind his question. The American was wearing his usually bright sunny smile. Damn. The boy smiled too much. What was there to smile for?

"Nothing." He told him. His voice was peaceful and soft. There really was nothing wrong with him. He was with America. _His_ America. The little colony he once took care of. Sure, there were small disagreements, but it was part of their relationship. It was how they got along with each other. It wasn't like his relationship with Francis, who was always full of lust and his strange antics. No… England thought. Their relationship was special. It was something he had never felt before.

Alfred's smile grew wider. "Awww, not going to complain about my food, Iggy?"

The English man fumed while he mumbled to the American to shut up, groaning at the nickname his former colony had labeled him with. When he befriended Japan, the first thing he did was to ask him how to say England in Japanese. When the Japanese man told him that it was Igiritsu, the America thought that the name was too long, so he stuck to Iggy. So Iggy it was.

"Well," The American perkily said. "This is better than those terrible scones you made!" He watched with pleasure as blood traveled up through Arthur's cheeks. _It's so much fun teasing this guy_, Alfred thought with glee.

The Englishman wanted to strangle the idiot. "Hey!" He was still blushing. "I made those scones you bloody idiot!" He had to roll up the sleeves of his green vest as he started to eat.

"Ah, ha ha!" The stupid America laughed. "I know!" Why wouldn't he stop smiling! "I just like to watch your reactions!" He gave England a crooked grin. S-stupid Alfred!

"I-idiot… I thought you liked my food… You never complained about it when you were little…" He stared the soft azure blue eyes that were hidden behind Texas, his glasses. They were as clear as crystal.

Azure eyes blinked back. "I only ate them because I didn't want to hurt your feelings." Alfred told him. He stopped to push Texas up the bridge of his pointed nose. It was the truth. So many times, the Englishman would 'cook', only to have end up burning the said food or set something up on fire.

The American colony would have gagged and choke, trying not to make it apparent to his guardian. He didn't want to make him mad. He looked so happy when he ate his food. He didn't want to destroy that happy. That simple happiness that kept them together…

Arthur noticed Alfred was unusually quiet. "A-alfred?"

"Remember the Revolutionary War?" The change of topic was so sudden. So out of place. Why did he bring up the subject? He thought the fool knew better than to bring up the subject of that particular war! He thought that he knew.

Anger flashed in his bright green eyes. "What about it?"

"Arthur…?" His voice was distant, "Are…" there was hesitation. "Are you still mad at me?" He sounded hurt.

"Alfred… I…" Arthur didn't know how to start! "I don't know." He admitted.

Arthur fell into deep thought; he still had mixed feeling about the whole thing. He didn't like to think about it, he always tried to avoid the subject all together. The nightmares would come, but those were usually reserved when America's birthday came around. No. He didn't want to think about it. Of course he hated America! It was his bloody damn fault that he was a mess! His fault that he had to suffer. That he broke his first love! It was all his stupid fault!

"England?" The Englishman withdrew back into reality.

"Eh…" This was awkward. "I'll think about it. Okay?" He told the American nation. "I need to get to some time to think about it. I don't know yet." He saw a sad look reaching in his friend's eyes.

"I see." England felt rather guilty. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't mad at him anymore, but that would be lying, because he didn't know for sure if he could truly be mad at him anymore. It was too confusing. Too complicated. Besides, America was his colony. His brother. Wasn't it wrong to feel like this to your brother?

The small frown on America face quickly transformed into a smile, it was as if the sadness wasn't there at all. Was Arthur imagining it all? Was it just an illusion?

The American roughly grabbed the England's hand. "Let's go!"

England flinched at the slightly touch of his hand, but his inhuman grip remained strong as ever. "W-where the hell are you taking me to, you fool?" He couldn't stop the blood from flowing into his cheeks again. Why couldn't he react to America like he did with everyone else?

"I got to get you out of the house sometimes you know!"

"Let go of me!" But his exclamation was ignored as America dragged the short man out of the room, mumbling and protesting as he went, arguing with the American. It was just a typical day with America.

* * *

Arthur was surprised of where Alfred had dragged him to. He was half expecting the idiot to bring to McDonalds, or take him to one of his stupid movie theaters. Instead, after running nonstop for awhile with the Englishman piggyback ridding on his back, they stopped at a local playground.

The small place was deserted, the sun was already setting. When they got to the swings, England climbed off of the American's back.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked Alfred.

"Hmm…" He answered. He looked so peaceful as he laid on the ground, staring the white puffy clouds that were passing by. His dreaming expression may England slowly form a smile as the Englishman gently pushed himself on the swing. The two spent several minutes of complete silence. The only noise that was made was the sound of the swing and the swaying of the trees.

Arthur finally found his voice. "Alfred."

"Yeah?" Alfred looked back at him.

"Thanks for letting me come." The boy stared at him in shock. Shouldn't it have been in reverse? Usually, England would seem a bit reluctant to come over. Every single time. Why so nice all of the sudden?

"Don't…" Alfred closed his eyes. "Don't leave me." Arthur felt a sense of déjà vu. It was like when America was a colony again. Asking Arthur to don't leave the house.

England blinked, continuing to stare straight ahead to the sky. "I-" He told him. "I have a country to run you know."

"I know that." Alfred whispered. "But…" His crystal blue eyes tried to blink away the tears. "I…the war… The Revolution…" At those words, everything suddenly blacked out, as Alfred fell into the darkness.

"Alfred! Are you?" England saw that America had fainted. "Alfred!" _Please no… Not again… No…no…no…_ He thought as he tried to wake up the unconscious blond. _Please…_ He remembered the smile the America had had his face when he asked him the question, "Do you still hate me?"

_No, calm down you bloody fool._ He just fainted. _Take him back to your house._ England tried to reason with himself. With a bit of struggle, he took his former colony by the arm and took him home, still full of worry. But he couldn't help but wonder of the cause of the spell…

* * *

Author Notes: That's all for this chapter. I'm sorry is this chapter was rather uneventful for you. The next chapter, for sure, will have more interesting stuff happening. This is just pretty much a prologue. No action, just a lot of emotional mush. For the rest of the year however, **updates may slow down** due to the author's troublesome school life. This is included for all of my fanfics in progress. Please be patient. I'm not too sure if this story will become popular, but I will still work on it all the same. **Reviews of course, are always welcome, don't just come and look at it or just favorite it, leave your thoughts here! Do you like it? Hate it? Tell me! You know you want to hit that pretty lilic button! **


	3. Chapter 3: Conclusion

**Blast from the Revolution! Past Mayhem**

**Chapter 3: Confusion **

* * *

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Alfred felt the warm sensation of the sunlight lightly kiss his face when he finally woke up. Everything he saw was in a haze. He woke up in bed with layers of blankets stacked on top of him. Was he sick? The American boy tried to remember what has happened before he blacked out.

The rain. The mud. The war. England! England… Alfred sat up to looked around and see where the gentleman was. He wasn't here. Alfred sighed and slid back underneath his covers. He didn't want to get up. He just wanted to rest. To forget about everything that had just happened… To…

"Alfred!" Alfred froze. Someone was calling out his name. "Alfred!" He quickly pretended that he was still asleep.

"Alfred!" It was England! Alfred was too shocked by the appearance the empire to really say anything. He tried to calm himself down; he took a quick peep to see his face. There were hints of concern on his face, was that a blush?

The Englishman groaned when he saw that Alfred was still asleep.

"Look, if you're still asleep, I'll just leave to the summit meeting without you. You're going to be late!" Why was he telling him this? What summit meeting? What was that? He felt the bed sheets shifting. England was sitting at his bedside!

England uttered in his ear. "There's food in the kitchen when you wake up. Eat them and come to the meeting, the address is on the fridge." A moment's silence reached his ear. England sat up and quietly left the room; America heard the front door close. After several minutes, Alfred sat up again. He was trying to absorb all of what he had just heard.

Okay, so he had just survived a war with the greatest empire on Earth and now he was okay? That felt strange to him. But… Alfred realized. He was free. He was independent. So why was England still here? Was this even his house? Alfred didn't recognize it.

The Englishman's one-sided conversation with him didn't make any sense; his words were an alien's tongue. None of it made sense. England acted so casual with him. As if nothing had happened. As if their war had never existed. As if they have always been with each other. Alfred's lips quivered.

The house turned out to be rather small. Smaller than what America was used to. As England had said, the kitchen already had food made for him. It was scones and jam. Yuck! He thought, twitching his nose.

He knew that if England was there, he would have scorned at the boy for making faces about his cooking. _It's scones and jelly, not jam, you prat_, the Englishman would have corrected him. Whatever, a little change in the English language wouldn't hurt.

Without actually tasting anything, which didn't matter since the scones were already partly burnt, Alfred explored more of the house, staring the strange objects that lay out before him. England said something about a fridge. The fridge turned out to be this giant rectangular prism shaped object that held large amounts of food. On the giant thing was a small note, Alfred recognized England's small neat written within a glance.

_Alfred you prat, you better be alright when you're reading this! _

Alfred scowled at the Englishman's use of the word, 'prat'. This was where the writing appeared thin and sharp. A sigh of impatience.

_Food is on the table and the summit meeting will be due at 3:00 this afternoon. _

_Yeah, I noticed,_ Alfred thought dryly, _I choked on one of them._ He stared at the digital clock that was resting on the table counter. It was quarter to eight. He couldn't help but stare at the glowing numbers. What sort of machine was this? He continued down the note.

_The train ride to New York will be a 4-5 hour ride, so you better be on time! _

_What's a train?_ Alfred panicked. He knew where New York was, of course he did. He once lived there! But what was the man thinking? Five hours? A trip to New York would take nine days **(1)**!

_I won't be there to back you up this time! _

Alfred gave a sad smile. That was the same thing England had told him the other time…

Tears fell down his chin as he stared at the last sentence.

_Please be okay and don't do anything foolish. _

Below the last words was the address to the said summit meeting. He would follow his advice… He wouldn't do anything stupid… But no matter how hard he tried, Alfred kept crying.

* * *

Alfred couldn't help but feel unnerved as he walked though the city. He felt the stares of strangers as he walked by, he knew that there was something wrong here. The city was huge! Tall intimidating buildings soared through the skies, strange motor carriages raced by at such speeds, and thousands of peoples of different races passed by here and there. Was this really West Virginia?

What really shocked the American boy was the clothing they wore. Some of the men wore suits; others were more casual and just wore shirts and shorts. _The women's skirts were so short!_ Alfred thought as he blushed at a passing girl who wore her dress up to her knees **(2)**. The people themselves seemed to have their focus on Alfred.

After he had his inedible breakfast (he had to choke it down with milk), Alfred found out that none of his clothes fit. The suits were too big. Too wide. Most were at least a full size larger than him.

In the end, the American boy had to make due with wearing his old Revolution uniform, much to his embarrassment. He would normally be proud of wearing the old navy blue coat, but when he stepped into the city, he quickly realized that it brought in to much attention. Something that he did not want at the moment. It made him feel insecure. Out of place. The points and stares from the citizens were not helping either.

What was worse however; was that he was lost. Yes. He was lost. The last time he went into a town, he knew all of the people who inhabited the place. Now, almost everyone was a stranger to him. How strange. Was this some kind of dream? A nightmare?

Alfred stared at the crowded streets. He was trying to focus as he rushed through, he was trying to understand England's message. Where to go? Where to go? Where was he? How…

"Excuse me dear, do you need help?"

Alfred looked up from the ground to be face to face with a plump middle age woman. She had light brown curls, wore a soft rosy pink dress, and was carrying a small brown bag. Alfred strangely felt calm and noticed that the woman had a kind face.

"Y-yes m'am." He whispered. He had to remember the question. "C-can you please tell me ever so kindly of how to get to the Amtrak Station?" He showed her the name of the station that was from England's note.

"Never been to the train station, honey?" Alfred shook his head.

With patience, the middle age woman helped guild the young man to the place, helping him with each step of the way. Alfred gave the station people a sheepish grin when he had trouble with the money **(3)**. However, he eventually got onto the train and was on his way. Before he left, he gave a small peck to the kind woman and thanked her for her help. The woman gave him a small smile waved her good bye.

* * *

After five painful hours of sitting in the train, Alfred finally got off the strange vehicle. _The thing was so fast…_ he thought. _Five hours and I'm already in New York? Amazing… _He wasn't afraid of the vehicle, oh no. It was quite the opposite: he was fascinated by them. The person who controlled the train however, didn't see it his way and quickly shooed him away when Alfred tried to get the captain to explain to him the mechanics of the fast machine. What a party pooper. Oh well.

Once he was off the train, he found himself lost again in the busy streets of New York City. West Virginia has changed, but New York… Oh my! It was too much for him to say. If he thought the buildings were tall back there, it was wrong. The buildings here were taller. Bigger. It must had reached into outer space!

Alfred's mind started to drift into space as he daydreamed, walking thought the traffic. He mind was imploded with all of the images. That giant screen on that building… was it magic? _Wait, no…_ Alfred shook off the thought. _There's no such thing as magic. _He told himself, only England believes in his magic and fairies. What a racket the town had! He only found out later that it was actually music. What sort of place was this to call that noisy screaming as music?

How…

EEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!!

Alfred turned around. His bright blue eyes widened at the sight of the motor carriage that was running straight to him! He could only continue gawking, not bothering to close his eyes at the thing.

He waited for death and closed his eyes. Alfred ran though his prayers, chanting each word, keeping each word close to his heart.

_I wish for love. _

The love of what? All was already lost!

_I wish for peace. _

Lies! He would never find peace. Now that he knew that England may still hate him for what he had done to the Englishman!

He wished to be in heaven.

He didn't even know where nations went when they died. What made him think that he would go to heaven when he had killed so many souls?

_I wish for… _

SSSCCCCRRRREEEEECCCCHH!

Nothing happened. The vehicle stopped. What?! The vehicle abruptly stopped, missing the blond by a few inches. Alfred didn't notice the stares and shouts from the people around him. He didn't realized what had just happened. The machine's door opened up, revealing a young man in his late teens. That all that America took in.

The stranger's eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but Alfred felt the stranger's eyes harden at him. "What do you think you doing?!" Alfred flinched at the anger directed at him.

"I…"

"Get in!" His voice was pressed. Alfred was surprised, but didn't move. G-get in?

"What are you waiting for?" The stranger was getting impatient.

"Boy!" The American nation turned around to see a man in a blue suit with a strange black cap.

The man went to the stranger to ask him. "Do you know this young man?" His face was stern and cross.

"Of course I do." The other one told him coolly. "He's my brother."

"I- I am?" Alfred asked. He didn't recognize him. America blinked at them. The policeman, that was the police, right? The policeman looked at the driver with suspicion.

The stranger only laughed, he threw a quick glare at Alfred, _work with me here, damn it!_

"R-right!" Alfred tried to put on a straight face. "He's my brother! I forgot you see…" He tried to convince the police. "I have a bunch of siblings…I often forget their names and faces…"

The driver, Alfred just noticed that he shared the same shade of dirty blond that he had, nodded in agreement. As he nodded, America noticed that the boy even shared the same sole strand of hair he had! "He's due for a doctor's appointment and we can't be late. He's got OCD you know."

"Hey! I do not!" Alfred protested, he was ticked off. He had no idea what the driver was talking about, but he was pretty sure that there was nothing wrong with him.

Well…it didn't matter, because they was doing a good job of fooling the man. They were excused.

"Let's go." He told Alfred. Alfred hesitantly stepped in, unsure of what was going to happen to him. The back of the car turned out to be rather neat; he saw a box **(4)** tossed in the back of the seat.

Once he got in, the stranger looked back at Alfred before telling him. "I would buckle up your seat belt if I were you." Alfred looked at him in confusion. The other teen grinned, aggressively stamping his feet onto the gas without warning.

"What are we…AAAHHHHHH!!!!" Alfred screamed when he was half way through his words. What the hell was he thinking?! The driver raced through the streets, seeming to have not notice the protesting and honks from the other cars.

"WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!!!!!" He cheered. Alfred gagged. _I think I'm going to be sick… _

* * *

Much to Alfred's relieve, as they drove deeper into the streets, they began to slow down. They began to talk.

"You're on your way to the summit meeting… aren't you?" The question sounded casual.

"Yes…"

The other one smiled. "So am I."

Alfred wasn't sure how to respond, so he tried a simple question. "Who are you?"

In the sunlight, Alfred took a good look at the mysterious teen who took him. He was wearing a simple blue hooded jacket adorned over a red vest. The teen had skinny blue pants made from a type of fabric Alfred wasn't familiar with along with red and white shoes.

The stranger stared at him in shock. A small frown formed at his thin lips.

"You…you don't know me" His voice cracked.

Alfred stared back. "No…" Have they met? "Should I?"

"So you don't know me. Okay." A small sigh escaped from the stranger. "Do you know who you are?"

That was an easy question. "I'm Alfred."

"So you say…" Alfred hear the other utter as his face turned away to look at the traffic ahead of him. A small curtain of silence fell over them.

This only made Alfred confused. Was there more he wanted to say? The other teen told him that he was going to the summit meeting too!

_Go ask him about it_, a small voice nudged him.

_No I won't! I don't need help!_ He argued with the voice.

_You're going to look like a fool if you don't ask._

Alfred blinked back. _That's what Art- England would say._

_But you need to know! _

_I don't even know where I am! Or who this person is!_

The other side told him gently. _That only give you more the reason._

_Why am I even arguing with you?!_ Silence. _Hey! Answer back!_ Nothing.

Alfred gave mentally groaned before the driver interrupted his thoughts. "You know…I didn't think I would see you here like that…"

The teen's voice was soft and dreamy as if his mind wasn't completely there at the present.

He turned around. Alfred saw that some of the boy's baby blond locks fell down in front of the glasses. The boy gave a good long look at Alfred. They were at the red light.

"Dad…" His voice was dry and husky. "What have you gotten yourself into?" Alfred's eyes widen at the words.

The American teen stared back the other blond. "D…dad?" He repeated the words in bewilderment. He shook his head at the teen driver.

"What do you think you're doing? Calling me dad…" He tried to shake it off. "I'm too young be anyone's father."

"But you said your name was Alfred." He stated. "Alfred F. Jones. The United States of America."

"How…"

"Look at me." The blond used his hands to grab the boy by the collar. "Look at me!" His face was wild. "Do you recognize me?!" The question popped up again.

Alfred saw the bright blue eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. _His eyes. My eyes. _Alfred thought. _No! It couldn't be!_

"You!" America wouldn't stop. "I know you! But it can't be!"

"It is…" Was this really him?

Alfred's voice came out weak. "New York?"

New York smiled at his name. "Yes Dad…it's me…"

* * *

Author's Notes:

Nine days **(1)** – Back in the revolution days, the roads were so bad that it would take nine days to get from Virginia to New York, or something like that.

Knees **(2)** – This may not sound like a lot, but the people of the 20th century made a big deal out of it when their generation started to wear their skirts up to their knees.

Money **(3)** – Just to tell you guys, at Alfred's time, there was no official money system. Each state had its own money system; there was no Bank of the United States.

Box **(4)** – camera

* * *

Notes: Now things will start to get exciting… ne? With past Alfred in the present, there will surly be lots of confusion and action. Have fun! Hmmm….England will probably not be here until the next chapter. I'm not too sure how this fic will turn out to be, but I'm sure I'll have a blast with it. Lots of experimenting for me to do!

**I do not own the OC New York; he was created by Top-Cap at deviantart. Go look it up.**


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting

**Blast from the Revolution! Past Mayhem**

**Chapter 4: Meeting**

* * *

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

New York was here! With him! Alfred's heart beat twice. Albert. One of the youngest colonies!

"Albert…" Alfred called out New York's human name. "What are you doing here?" What were the chances of meeting the boy in this giant city? Apparently, the chances were big enough to have occurred just now.

Albert gave him a small shrug. "I was just driving to the summit meeting like yourself." He raised his eyebrow. "I was tired of waiting," before adding, "you promised to take me to the meeting with you, you know."

"Did I?" The American nation was trying to figure out the situation; he echoed his son's question from earlier. "What has God done to me?" He touched his face to make sure that he was really here.

Albert was slightly surprised at the mention of God; he had forgotten that his father was once very religious. "Well…" He slowly answered. "Let's start with the simple questions."

"Simple questions?" The new nation was curious.

"Sure." New York agreed back. "So your name is Alfred, right?" He felt strange to refer to his father by his regular name.

"Right." Okay, they already established that.

"What year is it?"

That was an easy question, he quickly answered. "1783."

Albert's reaction however, was the opposite of what Alfred expected.

"No! You're wrong!" America was taken back; New York gave him a stern look. "It's 2005 **(1)**."

The year slowly sank into his mind. 2…2005? Impossible! There was no way that he could have traveled through over two hundred years in time! No. Fucking. Way. This was all in his head. For sure, right? But it felt too real to him. Too tangible.

Albert shot him another question. What was this? Twenty questions?

"How old are you?"

"Um… Four hundred?" Alfred's answer sounded more like a question.

The New Yorker sighed. "Human years if you mind."

Alfred looked embarrassed, "Oh." He flushed. "I'm sixteen."

"Hm." The driver nodded. "I'm older than you now." He sounded pleased, pleased that he was now older than his own father.

America scowled at the obvious statement. No need to tell him that!

"So how did you get here?" The New Yorker was rather anxious to see how this kid had gotten here.

"I don't know!" His eyebrows were pressed together in frustration. "I was -! I was fighting with England!"

He was now recalling the events. "We were fighting… he didn't even shoot me, he just surrendered." Alfred started to feel the tears flowing down his pale cheeks. "He could have shot me…"

"I think I fainted." That made sense. Everything faded from his view. But that still didn't explain the weird phenomenon.

Albert frowned. "Is that it?"

"Yes."

"I find this very hard to believe." New York was still wearing the same stoic expression.

"I know."

"So let me get this straight." Albert kept his hands on the steering wheels, they were now moving again. "You were fighting with England."

The New Yorker wore a weary look at the mention of the Englishman. "And than you just fainted?"

Alfred nodded. "I woke up at my house, but I didn't recognize it."

Albert told him. "You lived at the house until after 1812."

America whimpered. "England was there." He stopped to look around at the small shops on the streets. The two blonds were quiet after that. Alfred was afraid to break the silence.

America found himself staring at the older teen, tracing the teen's figure with his wide bright eyes. _Wow… he grew so much…_ The last time he saw New York, he was only eleven back than, barely up his shoulders. Now, the boy was nearly taller than him, at least England's height.

New York felt awkward having his now younger dad stare at him, but he allowed him to do so. He wasn't used to having a father who only knew twelve of his other siblings. After having thirty or more siblings coming into the family, he was used to being pretty much ignored. He was his father's favorite, but the teen father was usually busy with the world issues. Fighting a war with the Iraqis was more important than worrying about a baseball rivalry between the Red Sox and the Yankees.

Albert finally spoke up. "I don't know what sort of magic may have been set on you, but I'll help you. All the way." He looked like he meant it.

"Why do you believe me so easily?" America wanted to know. He could have been a spy for all he knew.

"For the same reason you believe in me." He told him. "You just know."

The way he talked, the way he said the words, he believe in him. He really was New York. The feeling he felt towards him, the only sort of feeling nations would feel towards each other… allowed him to tell that this boy was not human. He was definitely one of his kind.

"But if you want to be more logical on that issue, than sure." The New Yorker absentmindedly cleaned his sunglasses with his shirt as he told his father.

Albert slid the glasses back on. "First of all, it would not make sense, at all," He made a rather dramatic pause. Alfred suspected that he just did that for the sake of dramatizing and was perhaps hoping to impress his father while he was at it. "For a foreign spy, to come disguised as a younger version of you."

Alfred thought, oh, that was a bit obvious.

"It would be stupid. Anyone who would want to kill the United States would at least try to be as accurate as possible with the small details. Al Queda would do a better job than that." Albert was positive of that. They weren't that foolish. He would have known, he had experienced some of their crimes at hand. Especially after nine eleven.

"Besides," New York scowled as he steered the car to the right. "You looked so lost; I don't want the news to say something about my father who decided to do something so idiotic because he had no idea where he was." He sounded so much like England when he said that.

"So." Alfred decided to get to the point. "What is the world summit meeting I hear so much about?"

* * *

In a matter of minutes, the whole picture of this summit meeting was well… strange… From Albert's description, the meeting was more like attending a bar rather than a meeting at all. Almost like those meeting between his states during the old colonial days, except that the American boy only had to worry about handling thirteen rowdy kids. The world meeting probably had more or less of a hundred members; some were active in participation, while others didn't bother at all.

At the same time, poor New York was trying to fill in all of the contents of the two hundred years that America had missed.

There were some facts that shocked America, "Wait, Mattie's a nation?" Alfred jumped in the middle of a sentence, sounding astonished. His little brother was now a government of his own.

He also had to fill in all of the nations that would regularly attend the summit meeting, like France, Germany, Italy, many other nations that Alfred had never heard of. Problems such as "Global Warming" and "Iraq War" were completely alien to him. Those words brought no meaning or sense to his mind, there were no links.

"Okay, so you know all of this stuff," They were getting closer to the building. Like a lot of the buildings in the city, the structure of the world summit building was rectangular and tiled with glass.

Even after passing many other buildings similar to this one, Alfred still stared at the tall architecture in awe. It was incredible. To think that one day, he would be one of the leading world powers (a position that England had held for awhile) and have cities like this filled with hundreds of businesses.

"But!" Alfred wasn't listening. "You have to remember to take every. Word. For granted." He emphasized the last four words.

Albert was nervous. Nervous knowing that his very young father was going to have this huge amount of power in his hands. He didn't like the idea of it at all. He was thankful that he was here with him. If the young American made any mistakes, at least he would be there to fix it. He was involved with enough politics to know his way around the works.

Alfred's silent behavior was unusual. Was he nervous?

Albert tried to lighten him up by striking him with a question. "Why are you wearing that anyway?" He had been meaning to ask him for awhile, he was referring to the revolution uniform that America has worn all morning.

"Ah…" Alfred felt his face slowly turn warm. "None of the clothes fit me…" He remembered spending a good portion of the morning after breakfast, constantly trying out different suits and pants to have only found out that all of them were too big. That brown shaggy jacket he spotted on the coat hanger was too heavy for him. If he had worn those beige pants, they would have probably fallen down; something that France would enjoy seeing.

"You can borrow my clothes when we're done with this stupid meeting."

"Hm."

* * *

The glass door silently slid open as the two Americans approached.

"Well, we're here. What do you think?"

The inside of the building was bigger than it looked. Albert had to drag the nation by the arm to the elevator when he caught him gawking at the people around him. People of many nationalities walked around him, exchanging greeting to each other as if they have known each other on a daily basis. Perhaps they did.

Alfred gave him a sheepish smile in the elevator.

"What is this?" He pointed to the row of arrows on the side of the wall.

"It's an elevator… those are the buttons."

"Um, we're going up, right?"

"Yeah." Alfred pressed the up button to the highest level. The two just stood where they were as the platform raised them to their destination. Soft elevator music rose from a small hidden speaker as the Americans pondered.

Alfred gazed at the ceiling, not really thinking around anything when the elevator abruptly stopped. He looked back down when the door slid open again, revealing a young man with light brown shoulder length hair. He wore a kind expression as he stepped in.

"America, it's been awhile!" He beamed at the two; America quietly gave him a small hello.

"Lithuania." Albert greeted him. So he knew him?

"New York! Long time no see!" Lithuania automatically recognized the small state. "Doing well?"

He threw a small grin at the other man. "Same as usual, you?"

"Hmmm, I had another date." He smiled. "Belarus broke my fingers again." The Lithuanian man showed the crunched up digits to the Americans to prove his point. His small hands were bandaged up with small hints of blood at the fingertips.

In contrast to the smiling man, New York gave him a skeptic look.

"Are you sure it was a date?" There was drip of sarcasm in his tone.

"Well," Lithuania chucked. "I was the one who asked her."

That probably wasn't the best idea… Alfred assumed. Whoever this Belarus was, he would try to remember not to approach her whatsoever. She sounded like a strong person, not someone you would want to mess with…

Before more could be said, the elevator stopped again.

"Well…" Lithuania proclaimed. "Looks like we're late."

Alfred gave out a huge sigh; _let's get this over with…_

* * *

"America!" A brunt voice with a heavy accent rose. "You're late by three minutes!"

He turned around to see the voice's owner, which turned out to be a muscular blond man with icy blue eyes.

America heard a small voice mumble, "Geez West, calm down, it's just a few minutes." He could have sworn that he heard a small peep of a chick.

"Ve~ Germany, can we have pasta after this?" The American teen looked again, this time; the speaker was an Italian boy with auburn hair, he eyes were closed as if he was thinking hard about something. _He must be Italy_, America thought as he stared at the small curl at the side of the Italian's head. Italy sat besides Germany, the man who had yelled at him for his tardiness. Hundreds of voices rose in the background.

**(2) **

"Is this meeting like, mandatory?"

"Did you see the lastest of deviantart of JOKER? There was this big debate of who would be the seme,"

"Oh chiquito, you're so cute when you're all red!"

"S-shut up!"

"Oh mon cher, would you like to come to my place tonight?"

"Stupid wino-bastard! That's my ass you're touching!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ca - "

"Taiwan, is that you, aru? Come back to nini!"

"Can I glomp you?"

"…"

Alfred felt rather woozy trying to keep track of the number of people surrounding him, trying to tune out the eccentric meaning of the conversations around him.

"QUIET!" A loud shotgun was shot into the air, quickly bringing the room into a complete silence.

"Thank you, Switzerland." Germany thanked the Swiss nation. Switzerland gave him a low grunt.

Alfred's eyes slowly trailed to through the crowd, gazing at all of the individuals, all looked impatient to see what he had to say.

"R-right!" America stuttered. "Today…I…" Sweat poured down his neck.

"I am thankful for all of your patience and…" A small hand waved in the air. "Yes?" The hand belonged to one of the Italian brothers from earlier.

"Ve~, America!" He sounded so cheerful like a small child. "Why are you wearing that?" His question automatically drew attention to the blond's attire.

"Well…" America embarrassedly scratched the back of his head. "I…" He stumbled over his words. "I left it in the wash." He finished lamely, ashamed of his terrible excuse.

"Oh." The Italy went on eating his pizza. "Okay!"

"So today!" America began again. "We're discussing about…" Dramatic pause. Some of the nations sighed.

"Global Warming!" Here we go again… England thought. What's he going to do? Suggest that robot idea again?

The English gentleman raised his thick eyebrows as the American nation hastily took out a briefcase that he didn't notice from before. Packets of papers and charts scattered all over the desk.

"Sorry!" America loudly apologized, trying to hide the uneasiness in the atmosphere. "I wasn't quite prepared for this, so I apologize for the inconvenience!"

His sincere statement surprised many of the members at the table. Did America just apologize? Normally, the boy would just claim that he was too awesome or something among the lines. Was he actually taking the meeting seriously for once?

"Ah, New York," They heard him call to the state. "Can you get me that last sheet? Thanks."

New York saw his cue.

"The human population is quickly overflowing," New York quoted. "To save energy, we would have to…"

England tuned out the rest of the young teen's speech that he had heard for endless times for the past decade. The English nation shifted his attention to the other person, America, bearing a hard frown at him.

Alfred seemed to be fine. He looked the same as ever, but… Usually standing upright and tall, full of pride and a bit of arrogance, the American seemed a little different today. His posture was slouched, a small habit that the young nation once had before the First World War. Back when Alfred wasn't so full of himself. Back when he was still the young Alfred that he knew and loved as a tiny colony. Even though Arthur knew that the boy was still taller than him, today, he seemed smaller, weaker. Or was that his eyes playing tricks with him?

"How long will this meeting last, aru?" England heard China murmur the question to Japan. Japan just gave his brother a soft shhh, silently taking notes on a small clipboard the Japanese man brought with him. The two Americans were still discussing the small issue.

England was astonished of the stillness in the atmosphere. While in thought, the former Empire was involuntarily listening partly to the speech, detecting no signs of Alfred shouting out ideas of rockets or robots. It was out of character. It was suspicious.

England didn't bother with formalities and just commented the blond.

"You know what you're saying, do you not?"

America didn't expect the sudden question. He slowly turned to see a familiar man with straight straw blond hair. But that wasn't what stopped him at his tracks. The dark emerald green eyes, the distinctive thick eyebrows… It was England!

"E-England!"

England raised one of his eyebrows. They were as thick as caterpillars; America could never forget that feature, especially of his former guardian.

"Yes, that's my name." He calmly answered. America couldn't have forgot him already, that twit! They were on friendly terms!

"Well, what's your answer?"

"O-Of course I know what I'm talking about!" America stuttered. "I'm the hero after all!" Again, with the hero business. He hadn't say that word since nine eleven. He thought that he had grown out of that faze. Apparently not.

_What was I thinking?_ America lividly thought. _A hero? What is that supposed to mean anyway?_ He just said the first thing that popped out of his head. Why did he had to chose that concept?

"Anyway, if that doesn't work out, we could always build a machine or something that could solve everything!" America beamed at his excuse. Forget about what England said before, the boy was still silly with his stupid robot fantasies.

England just gave America an unimpressed looked and went back to who knows what he was doing before.

What really tugged England's mind however, was that navy blue uniform that the young nation wore. How it strangely stood out. What was the boy thinking? Coming to a meeting in that? England didn't even know that America still had that from the Revolutionary days. Was he trying to provoke him? The former British Empire? _Well_, he snorted, _if that was the case, than…_

"Germany!" England heard Italy's voice ring in his ears. Bloody hell, did the Italian ever stop calling out to the German nation? Even after the last world war, the two were thick as thieves. Than again, the world war had brought many nations closer for the better. And some for the worse, he would like to add.

The German man sighed, as if used to the antics. "Yes Italy?"

"Have you seen Romano?" He was referring to his southern brother, the more noxious, not to mention rude, Italian, who was usually tagging along with Spain.

England checked the small clock that was nailed to the wall opposite to this side of the room. Damn, the meeting was over already?

"No, I don't know where he is." Germany's agitated voice was strain as if trying not to remember the other Italian nation.

"Well, that's all for the meeting!" America announced with relief and eagerness. "Any questions? China?"

The Chinese man had his hand raised with a strange indifferent expression written all over his face. "What about the money aru? It would cost more money for all those changes!"

"Well…" New York was trying to cover his father's obliviousness to the topic.

"And you still owe me money!" _I owe him money? _America was confused. "What about the other nations? You borrowed money from them too!"

"Please don't ask." New York was started to get impatient. Haven't they gone through this before? "We in a war at the moment. We'll pay you guys back from we get back on track." His strained voice gave America the impression that this has happened more than once.

"Well, it doesn't matter!" America tried to give the Chinese nation a thumbs up. Just keep smiling, just keep smiling. "The meetings over! I'm really sorry about your situation, really!" China didn't look convinced, which didn't really matter anymore before once the America announced the meeting's closing all of hell broke loose.

**(3)**

"Japan! Can I stop by your house to work on that Franada doushinji later? I still need to revise the draft for the last segment!"

"Nini! I've finally found you!"

"Si-sister? Is that a paddle? ACK!"

"Russia! Stop bullying the weaker nations!"

"I touch you!"

"Ugh, let's get outta here…" England heard New York mumble to America. Their chairs slid against the carpet floor. Arthur took this cue as he leave as he quietly excused himself, knowing that nobody would notice his departure.

* * *

New York stomped out of the meeting room. "What do you think you were doing? A machine? That's hardly any better than the robot idea from last year!"

America was doing okay; he read all of the stuff on the packet, something that he normally didn't bother doing. It was when England questioned the plan. Stupid, stupid, England!

_Okay Albert_, New York told himself, _no need to get mad at England, this isn't the Revolutionary War. It's all history now._

America sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He really looked like he was, as he was hanging his head in shame. England was there… of course he was… He was an empire, a leading power. So why was he so shocked to see him again?

"Okay, okay… we're just stop by your house… it's a good thing that England's staying with you…"

Wait…

"England… is…?" Alfred felt his throat gone dry at the plain thought of England. England at his house. With him. At his place.

"He's supposed to be leaving today…" Albert drifted off. Alfred gave away a small sigh of relief.

"Let's get going." Alfred said to his son softly.

* * *

Author Notes:

2005 **(1)** - This is the perfect time to set. In 2005, there was a summit meeting in New York City, billed to be the "largest gathering of world leaders in history". This just gives me more opportunity to put in more characters during the meeting.

The Conversations **(2)** – Can anyone take a good guess who said what? It's a bit obvious.

More Conversations **(3)** – Start guessing now! Some characters are used twice.

* * *

Somewhere in the fanfic realm… (Not world, because realm sounds cooler. Like the Shadow Realm! [Gets bashed by Yu-Gi-Oh fans for abusing their fanterm]

Me: I… I have… 27 reviews? -starts crying- I love you guys T_T!

England: What's with the lass? -looks bored-

America: Well, she's not used to getting so many reviews in so little chapters.

Me: -continues staring at the screen- Over… 2,000 hits? 28 favorites and 42 alerts?

England: Okay, but don't you think she's overreacting a bit?

America: Well…

Me: That's not fair… My other fics only had a few reviews!

America: Well… no one cares about them?

Me: WAHHHH!!!!!!

England: -sarcastic- Nicely done genius.

America: Shut up England.

Me: Why don't you guys go make out of something? -still crying-

America and England: NO.

Note : This chapter was kinda, neh. It didn't came out as well as I thought. Ugh. I should go work on the next chapter. I'm falling behind!

**Be sure to drop by any suggestions and ideas when you review. Criticism is always appreciated. This will be repeated for all chapters. Now press that lovely purple button! Feeback does wonderful things to the human mind. **


	5. Chapter 5: Interrogation

**Lucid Memories**

**Chapter 5: Interrogation**

**

* * *

**

Before reading the chapter…

1. Hey guys, I have universal questions for all of you fanfic writers out there. I would love to see your answers in your reviews.

2. How long have you been writing fanfics?

3. How long does it take for you to type a chapter?

4. How long are your chapters? (normally) As in, how many words.

5. What kind of fanfics do you mostly write? (multiple chapters or oneshots, genres, etc.)

6. What do you think of OCs in general?

7. Do you write fanfics for fame or for the sake of the story? (be honest)

8. Do you easily get side tracked easily from fanfics? Do you work on more than 1 fanfic at a time before you finish any of them?

9. Would you say that writing fanfics have helped improve your writing? Explain your reason to why.

Thanks for taking your time to read and answer this! I just wanted to know to see the different ways that other authors write to see if there are ways to help me improve my writing habits.

* * *

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

**NEWS:** Title was changed from **Blast from the Revolution: Past Mayhem**, to **Lucid Memories**. Will go back later to change titles of other chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"New York," A young man's voice came from behind the two Americans. Alfred felt his chest violently jerk from surprise of the man's urgent tone. That accent…

Albert didn't bother to turn around to see the stranger's identity.

"What is it, England?" Albert sounded bored with no hint of interest. This was the second time today that the English nation had decided to interfere with them. The New Yorker was not that fond of his former guardian.

Alfred heard a huff escape from the older nation's mouth. "May I speak to _America_?" His name was subtly emphasized with the italics. "There are some businesses we need to discuss about concerning about… our trading relation…"

There were pauses in his words, showing some effort of picking the right words.

America turned around to open his mouth when his son jumped in, "We can't," New York lied. "We need to leave now." He was still looking away from the Englishman. There was a cold gleam in his cool blue eyes.

"It won't take that long." England assured him.

New York did not give in. "You could always talk to one of my siblings." He did not want England to find out. About his father. This was a family issue. "Father isn't always the best with the details of politics."

England remained calm, telling him, "America is his own nation," His face was stern. "I'm sure that he is very aware of the whole issue." Neither of the two arguing nations was aware that both of them were lying to each other.

America was annoyed by the two of them arguing. At this rate, they were going to miss the next train ride.

As if he read his mind, New York mentioned, "We're going to be late."

"Five minutes won't take too long." England argued back.

"I- Hey!" New York shouted in protest when England walked past by him, ignoring him! Taking his beet red faced father by the hand, and dragging him to the room next door! This was outrageous! What if he raped him?**(1)** Alfred stuttered in clusters of unidentifiable words.

"Come on, git." New York heard the English nation grumble. England didn't seem to have caught Alfred's look of hurt. Shit. Alfred didn't know that England still hated him.

New York could only watch his father get dragged off by the sadistic bastard. _It'll only be five minutes_, he had to remind himself. He flipped out his cell phone to check the time.

He closed his eyes as he started to count, "One Mississippi, two Mississippi…"

* * *

"A-me-ri-ca." His former guardian stretched out his name. "It's been awhile…" The green eyed nation examined his nails. This was his best way to start the conversation?

"I-indeed it has!" The younger nation spouted out. His face was still slightly red; England was still keeping a firm grip on his wrist.

The English nation stopped to give the young man look. "This uniform…" England tugged on the old faded out blue fabric. "It's been years since I last saw you wearing this."

Alfred gulped. What happened to the trading talk?

England turned to him. "All of your clothes are in the wash?"

Alfred nodded. England casually noted. "That's strange," He stepped closer to him. "I left your clothes by the front door this morning."

Alfred's guts plunged down. The two were less than a few inches apart. Alfred felt uncomfortable of how close they were. Was the current America usually this close with Arth-, England?

"Y-you did?" Alfred squeaked. "I-I guess I didn't see them."

"I see." England didn't move from his spot.

Alfred hesitantly asked the older nation. "A-are we done?" He wished that England wouldn't stand so close to him!**(2)**

"Not yet, boy." God, he hated how the England in the future still addressed him as a boy. He was legally a man! He was 16!**(3)**

Alfred's shoulders lowered. "Don't slouch." England barked at him. "What's wrong with you today, America?" He continued. "Stop being so-"

"So what?" Alfred snapped. "So stupid? So ignorant? So dependent?" Out of control, the colony aggressively locked his hands around his former guardian.

"Why do you always criticize me?" He cried. "Why can't you just let me be?"

"America…" England choked out. The child's overwhelming power nearly broke his ribs.

"ENGLAND!" Someone's distant voice broke out. The weak wooden door diminished. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS ARGUING ABOUT?"

_Oh bullocks!_ England silently swore. New York was at the door to see his father choking the English man.

"E-england!" Alfred's eyes suddenly grew wide. Tears spilled out. "I'm so sorry!" He released his former guardian, and dashed out of the building. England fell to the floor.

"Dad!" New York called out. "Where are you going?" His question fell on deaf ears. "DAD! AMERICA!"

"Dad…" The New Yorker repeated. Shock was all he had on his mind.

England struggled to stand up.

"YOU!" Albert turned to England. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

"I didn't do anything!" England shouted back. "I just asked him some questions of his behavior!"

"You dick!" New York didn't care what his reason was. "Now he's out there!"

"What am I suppose to do about that?" England asked the state.

"Well don't just stand there! Go after him!"

"Well, maybe I bloody will!" England yelled back. He ran off in telling him so.

_America, where did you go? _ They both wondered.

* * *

England's POV

The meeting was tiring. England was concern about America's well being. Shouldn't he be well today after his rest? Ahead of him, he caught sight of the two blond Americans quietly chatting to one another. Now was his chance.

"New York!"

The state didn't bother to turn to face him. What a rude twat! "What is it England?"

England's throat went dry. "May I speak to America?"

"There are some businesses we need to discuss about concerning about… our trading relation…" He tried to find the proper excuse to talk to the boy.

America turned around to open his mouth when his son jumped in, "We can't, we need to leave now." He was still looking away from the Englishman. England chose to ignore his cold look.

"It won't take that long." England assured him.

New York did not give in. "You could always talk to one of my siblings." Like hell he would talk to them! Bunch of gits. "Father isn't always the best with the details of politics."

England remained calm, telling him, "America is his own nation," His face was stern. "I'm sure that he is very aware of the whole issue."

"We're going to be late." New York loudly told him.

"Five minutes won't take too long." England argued back.

England sighed. They needed a place to quietly discuss the question of what was wrong with the American.

"I- Hey!" New York shouted in protest when England walked past by him. England took America by the hand, and dragged him to the room next door.

"Come on, git." England mumbled. There better be a good reason to why he was like this today! He made England worried. He didn't like to admit he was concern with America.

Once in the room, England decided to start the conversation. The boy looked like somebody tied his tongue. "A-me-ri-ca." His former guardian stretched out his name. "It's been awhile…" The green eyed nation examined his nails. They have actually talked almost every day, but did this America know that?

"I-indeed it has!" The younger nation spouted out. England noted that he was still red. The boy was still acting like a teenager. Go figure. England was still keeping a firm grip on his wrist.

The English nation stopped to give the young man look. "This uniform…" England tugged on the old faded out blue fabric. "It's been years since I last saw you wearing this." Memories of the American Revolutionary War faded in and out through his mind. The conflicts, the bodies, the blood. The souls of those who died for what they believe in…

England turned to him. "All of your clothes are in the wash?"

Alfred nodded. England casually noted. "That's strange," He stepped closer to him. "I left your clothes by the front door this morning." He had them already washed and ready to go. So why didn't he wear them?

"Y-you did?" Alfred squeaked. "I-I guess I didn't see them."

"I see." England didn't move from his spot. Liar! England knew him for ages. This boy… he wasn't like the America he knew right now. But yet… he still acted like America. Back then.

Alfred hesitantly asked the older nation. "A-are we done?"

"Not yet, boy." It has been years since England actually saw his former colony as a 'boy'. Something was off.

Alfred's shoulders lowered. "Don't slouch." England barked at him. "What's wrong with you today, America?" He continued. "Stop being so-"

"So what?" Alfred snapped. "So stupid? So ignorant? So dependent?" Out of control, the colony aggressively locked his hands around his former guardian.

"Why do you always criticize me?" He cried. "Why can't you just let me be?"

"America…" England choked out. The child's overwhelming power nearly broke his ribs. What was with him today?

"ENGLAND!" Someone's distant voice broke out. The weak wooden door diminished. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS ARGUING ABOUT?"

_Oh bullocks!_ England silently swore. New York was at the door to see his father choking the English man.

"E-england!" Alfred's eyes suddenly grew wide. Tears spilled out. "I'm so sorry!" He released his former guardian, and dashed out of the building. England fell to the floor.

"Dad!" New York called out. "Where are you going?" His question fell on deaf ears. "DAD! AMERICA!"

"Dad…" The New Yorker repeated. Shock was all he had on his mind.

England struggled to stand up.

"YOU!" Albert turned to England. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

"I didn't do anything!" England shouted back. "I just asked him some questions of his behavior!"

"You dick!" New York didn't care what his reason was. "Now he's out there!"

"What am I suppose to do about that?" England asked the state.

"Well don't just stand there! Go after him!"

"Well, maybe I bloody will!" England yelled back. He ran off in telling him so.

_America, where did you go? _ England wondered.

* * *

Normal POV again

England exited from the summit building to search for America. Where was the bloody idiot? As usual, New York was crowded and was cramped with cars zig zigging left to right. He mindlessly dodged the many cars around him; their honks of protest were unheard. All he heard was America's voice playing over and over again.

"England!" He missed the sound of the American's young voice. He was so cute back then…

Wait, no. He should be thinking about the America the nation. Not America the colony.

Didn't America have a cell phone? England quickly dialed his phone number, only to have found the answer machine on speaker.

The cool woman's voice came up. "Sorry, the number you have dial, is unavaila-"

England slammed his cell phone down. Crap. He left his cell phone off. Impossible! The idiot never left it off. He was always waiting for a call from him or his president!

England ran through the stores around the area. No. GameStop? Nope. The bank? No sir-ey.

When England arrived at Central Park, he felt a sudden tug to the western area of the giant park.

"Do you sense him?" New York snuck behind him.

"Can't you feel him?" England asked back. All nations had an in built sense to detect their own kind.

"You're stronger than me. Your skill in magic also helps."

England sighed. "Fine," He stopped to close his eyes into focus, feeling the dense stiff air around him. A sudden jab vibrated into his skull. A faint blue aura that only England could see clouded around the concrete sidewalk several meters from where England and New York stood.

"There he is." He pointed to the direction where he sensed America. The colony was sitting on the curb of the block, he was still crying. His blue uniform was worn and torn. There was dirt all over his pale face. Hm. That was strange. It has been awhile since America had pale skin.**(4)**

"Dad…" New York started to approach him. England blocked his way to hug America instead.

"What are you…?" New York started to question.

"Shhh…" England pressed his index finger on his lips to silent the state. "I'll take care of this."

"But…"

"I said I would fix my errors." England promised. "And so I shall."

"America, are you okay?" England asked him as he hugged his former colony.

"I'm sorry… England…" He hoarsely cried into England's arms.

"I-it's okay." England awkwardly patted him on the head. "It happens all the time." This only made him cry even more.

"I won't forgive you for this." New York gently pressed the bridge of his glasses up. The sunshine bounced off, as if to emphasize his anger.

"I don't care." England informed the state. "You never forgave me for that war either."

New York didn't have a comeback for that.

"After this, you better tell me what's going on." England wanted to know. "I know that you know what happened to America."

"What makes you think that I know?" New York coldly asked him. "I know as much as you know. That is all I can tell you."

"Tell me what you know." England pressed on.

"First, take him home." New York ordered.

"Which one?" He asked.

"The one in West Virginia. It's safe there."

"Okay then…"

* * *

On their ride back to West Virginia, Alfred rested his head on England's lap, much to New York's annoyance. He was irritated that even after the war, Alfred still wanted England. How could he forgive him so easily? He knew that those two had a 'special relation', but he didn't know that it was like this!

"This isn't Alfred, is it?" England assumed.

"No." New York agreed. "This isn't the Alfred you knew."

"So is he a spy?"

"Come on England, be observant." New York chided. "Doesn't he share the same aura as him?" He did.

England stared blanking at the New Yorker. Albert groaned. How dense could this guy get? "This _is_ Alfred. Just not from 2005."

The English gentleman glared at New York this time. "Don't tell me that this boy comes from the bloody Revolutionary War period!"

"He did."

"How is that even possible? Not even my magic could extend to that limit!" England was between fascination and horror. Fascinated that Alfred could accomplish such a feat. But he was also in horror, for knowing that the boy was oblivious to the future, and may possibly be stuck in the future.

"Look, I don't know, okay?" New York was clearly frustrated with the situation as England has. Both have now known about the Alfred's problem, but both were confused of its happening and how to get him back to his original time.

England than asked the same question both of them had in mind. "Even if he did get back, what would happen to the past? Now that he knows what happened in the future?" England frowned. Stupid time paradox.

"This why we need to do research." New York told him.

"With what?" England asked back. "The neighborhood's local library?" Sarcasm dripped off his tongue.

New York gave him a strange look. "Sure," He shrugged. "Why not? New York's library has one of the best libraries in the world! We'll manage."

"And the debts? Papers? Who's dealing with America's paperwork?"

"One of the states will sign them." New York was sick of the stupid Brit's questions.

"England, don't estimate us states." New York warned him. "We're weak as individuals, but together, we stand."

* * *

When they finally arrived to West Virginia, New York waved them farewell, before departing. America was still asleep.

"Where are you going?" England asked out of curiosity.

Albert gave him a grim look. "I'm going to my sister's house." England saw that he was wary. "Virginia gave me a phone call. Something about 'that idiot who refused to do his own paperwork'."

England stared at him.

Albert rolled his eyes. "Don't ask."

Before he left, he added, "Be sure to take care of Father, okay? Do anything funny, and I'll ask California**(5)** to break off your limbs!"

England sighed. America and his crazy kids.

* * *

Little did England knew, that America was awake the whole time. Alfred was confused. He felt hurt. He just injured England! But England just brushed it off, like it did when he was a child…

He thought that England and America in the future had a good relation. At least from what Albert told him. So why did England act so cold towards him?

_England must still hate me…_ Alfred thought. He called him a git. He didn't have the same warm look as he did back then. He didn't look like Arthur. He looked like England the empire. The former empire had a dark hard look in his eyes. He no longer loved him… Because he succeed from him.

Why did things have to be this way? Alfred wondered in grim thoughts. Couldn't he was independent, and still be accepted by England? He just wanted to be seen as Alfred. Not America the country.

_England…_ Alfred sighed when he arrived home. _Please forgive me…_

_

* * *

_

In another time…

"Sir, we found him lying on the field. What should we do with him?"

"Take him to the nearest shelter."

"Sir, are you sure?"

England looked at the British soldier. "Of course I'm sure." Of he was sure…

After all… he was the British Empire.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

(1) Oh Albert…

(2) I heard somewhere that Europeans' talking distant between each other tends to be closer compared to those for Americans.

(3) I'm just assuming that he's physically 16 for the time's moment.

(4) The change of America's skin is due to the growing population of immigrants and because he moved west, where it is more common for people to have tan skin.

(5) For those who are curious, California is a guy. He is not biologically related to Alfred. He is adopted from the Mexican succession, and has ridiculous strength thanks to having his economy taking up a big portion of America's business. However, the economy crisis has taken a toll on his strength. He is biologically the child of Mexico. Mexico is a guy, and no, I don't know who the mother is.

* * *

Yet again, the readers have found themselves warped into the fanfiction realm. How do you get to these funky realms anyway?

**RS** (me): -lifts up laptop- I finally finished the chapter! -starts laughing like a maniac-

**America**: Already? -checks clock- But you just started after dinner after you procrastinated off with your summer assignments!

**RS**: Oh shut up America. I have 3 AP classes next year! -starts crying-

**America**: Big deal. AP classes aren't that bad.

**England**: Anyway… -tries to run about from crying authoress- It only took her 3 in half hours to finish the rest of the chapter! After spending about 2 hours or more on the first 2 pages in March!

**RS**: And you guys better be happy! My hands are tired!

**England**: Please read and review for the sake of RS's self esteem. –turns to RS- Please stop talking about AP classes and testing, I think we're all sick of hearing those words.

**RS**: Ok… -looks at readers- BTW, thanks for the reviews guys! 51 review? I love you all! I didn't think my writing was that good. O_O

Say England, didn't you have a tie with America in the FIFA World Cup for soccer?

England: Don't remind me you ignorant lass! And it's football! Not soccer! -mumbles, "Americans"-

**RS**: Pfff. English.

**England**: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

**RS**: OMGnothing, pleaseignoreme. –hides behind America-

* * *

**Notes:** I'm so nervous! I just took the AP test for US History last month! Wish me luck to past! But besides from that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry if this chapter was crappy. The wording was pretty bad for my taste, but I'm just excited to finish this chapter. This chapter was literally finished overnight.

I started this chapter way back in March, but then, testing and finals came around and I had to abandon my fanfics for awhile. But now, school is over! -waves American flag- Summer is now full of fanfiction writing time! However, I will probably update one per week at its fastest, since I have other stuff to do too.

**Be sure to drop by any suggestions and ideas when you review. Criticism is always appreciated. Reviews = happy author. **

**WATCH THE FIFA WORLD CUP, I mean,**

**READ AND REVIEW.**

_**Have a nice Hetalian summer Hetalia fans! **_


	6. Chapter 6: Investigation

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 6: Investigation  
**

**

* * *

**

**Before Notes:** Looks like I'm being generous to you guys this month. The new chapter is up! I can't believe it. I finally had the time and took the time, to add more description in my writing. This chapter took me about a week to finish. Each sitting was roughly 3-5 hours each. This chapter is over 5,000 words! Not counting the extra side comments. As you may have noticed, I have slightly added some changes to the writing format. Nothing too big.

US: So you'll be cheering me for the game tomorrow (this was written on a Friday night). Right?

RS: Eh... I kinda have a meeting at the mall... o_o;

US: WHY? -cries-

RS: It's okay. -comforts America- I'll still be rooting for you in my heart! -waves little American flags-

US: -sniffs- At least some of my fans care about me...

RS: Hey!

UK: How did you even get into the Round of 16? -grumbles-

US: Because I'm the Hero! -big thumbs up-

* * *

**In order to distinguish the two Americas apart from now on, I will refer to the older one as US. The younger will be America.**

* * *

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: Look, if I every own anything, I would be rich and I wouldn't be taking my time to write a fanfic. I would make USUK canon and England would get to top every now and than.

* * *

***past***

US opened his eyes wide in response to a drench smell. What was that smell? Was that…? Alfred took a quick sniff. Manure? It didn't look like he was at his house (his room didn't smell that bad!), and the room was damp and stuffy, so he was definitely not in the hospital. The room lacked lighting and his side felt stiff from lying too long. Where was he? And what was he doing here? The last he remembered, he was at the park with…

"Arthur...!" US gasped out. He automatically sat up.

"You!" A voice barked at him. "Put your head back down!" US did not bother to look to see who it was. The voice did not belong to nation he knew. His intuition told him that it was just a citizen.

"Where am I?" US asked to the man who threw the order at him.

"Be quiet." The man told him. "You need to rest. You still need to recover from that wound."

"W-wound?" US was confused. What wound?

As if the man read US's mind, he explained. "One of the red coats aimed a good shot at you."

US was even more confused. Red coats? Wound? What was going on? The nation turned slightly on his side to inspect his body. Surely enough, there was a wound formed at his abdominals. The damage where the bullet had pierced his side was not a bloody mess. There were blood stains, but there was a pale red uneven skin that has yet to heal. No human could have survived the shot during this time period. While he rolled to his side, he also saw that he was not resting in a bed, but in a bed of straw. It was soft, but it was damp.

But US did not remember ever getting shot; unless the terrorists have decided to close in. But that did not explain the man's mention of the red coats. Or has Russia decided to become a communist nation again? The American nation scowled at the thought of the commie bastard converting back into the enemy's side.

"Excuse me," US cleared his throat. He looked to the side of the haystack. He realized that his caretaker was rather short and stubby. "What year is this?"

The man gave his country a strange look. Dim lights flickered at his scarred face. "Where have you been living? Under a rock?"

He realized that he had just thrown an insult at his fellow soldier. The man apologized to US. "I apologize for that, I have been away from my family and it has been a harsh year for us all." US still looked confused. Were they in another world war? "We have just won the war. It is 1783."

US just nodded. He patiently waited for the shock to soak in. 1783. 1783. 17. 83. Wait. 1783?

WHAT?

* * *

**~present~**

"America! Are you okay? You have been asleep for awhile!" England called Alfred from the kitchen. Was the boy still in bed? How much did the boy sleep? When it was still six o'clock, England took the time and effort to wake up early to make breakfast for his former colony. It was a nice breakfast of scones, eggs, bacon, and blood pudding (1)!

"America! If you don't wake up, all of the scones will be gone!" England had specially made those scones for America. Didn't he used to love them (2)? The old nation was dressed in his casual attire of a green vest worn over a white collar shirt along with some loose slacks.

"America?" England peeked into the teen's bedroom.

It was no mystery that America's bedroom was a mess. Like most teenagers, Alfred was a messy teenager. The floor was littered with books and magazines, soft drink cans overflowed his tiny trash can, there were stains all over the once soft cherry wood floor. Stuff animals from Alfred's states were piled to the side of his room, along with his unwashed clothes. Unread letters were still waiting on his laptop that was on the floor, which was the only object in America's possession that seemed to still hold good condition. The room was just in chaos.

Near the window in the room was where Alfred slept. At least the bed looked okay. The teen slept in a rather strange position. Alfred's head rested on his eagle shaped pillow that he was hugging on to dear life, but his body was twisted in a way that pointed out to England that America was having a hard to sleeping.

"America." England was now starting to get impatient. "You need to wake to up to eat. We need to talk."

America was still "asleep". "Ten more minutes, Engwin."

"Aren't you hungry?" He could go to his last resort of carrying the boy out of his bed if he had to…

"Your scones suck." America mumbled. England's forehead almost busted out a vein, his notably thick eyebrows pressed against one another.

England lost his patience. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?" This boy was definitely America. He was definitely no imposter. Only the brat could annoy him this much! "I MAKE THOSE SCONES ESPECIALLY FOR YOU!" The British nation nearly strangled the former colony.

"Hahaha," America finally opened his eyes to weakly chuckled, which only annoyed England even more. Even the younger America acted like the older one! They both mocked his cooking… In his imagination, England mentally hung his head in depression.

"Damn you America…" England glowered at the boy he once raised.

But America's next few words surprised the British man. "Eh, but thanks for making breakfast."

"Huh?" Did America just thank him? England stopped strangling the former colony.

"So you do care about me!" America exclaimed. The boy was still wearing his old war uniform. The boy definitely needed new clothes, England thought.

"Yes, yes," England sighed. The boy was such a pain in the arse sometimes. "Just eat up, okay?" The younger America made him worry too much. Maybe US was right, he was getting old.

"I'm not laughing at your cooking." America added.

"You're not?" England thought it was too good to be true. He smiled a little. England straighten up himself and leaned over to hear more.

"Nope!" America grinned. "Nice apron." He was pointing at England's liberty blue apron that read, "I'm not British. I'm just gay." (3)

England's smile dropped. It _was_ too good to be true. "DAMN YOU AMERICA!"

That boy was lucky that he was immortal!

* * *

After arguing over breakfast, "You're food tastes like crap!" and "Is this something you got from the sewers?", England had to face his next challenge: washing and getting America new clothes.

"No one takes a shower everyday (4)!" America complained across the hallway.

"Just take a god damn bloody shower!" England shouted back. "Do you know how to use the showerhead?"

"Wait, the what?" America poked out of the bathroom door and tilted his head to the side. "What's a shower-head?"

England's face froze. "You don't know who to use the facet?" England ran into the bathroom to check on him.

The next hour included a totally soaked England, and an America who had to clutch his stomach from laughing too hard.

"That was so awesome!" America declared as he watched England dump their clothes into the washing machine. America had to wear England's old clothes for awhile. "Let's do that again!" He was clearly amazed that the showers could conveniently heat up water in a few seconds. England however, was not. His head was drenched with hot water, and his face was red from the extreme temperature of the water.

England was angry, to say the least.

* * *

"You said that none of your clothes fits you?" England asked America while he was cleaning the dishes. At least US kept his dishes in good shape.

"Yes." America grumbled. _Well_, England reasoned_, this is the younger America. He grew up a lot after he separated from me… _

England sighed again. "I guess that means you'll have to wear my clothes for today since we need to get to the library today before it closes."

"Really?" America's eyes grew wide. He hugged England in gratitude. "Thanks England!"

England was surprised and blushed at the youth's sudden embracement. His former colony may be smaller, but the American was still taller than him. America's strength was still impressive, world power or not.

"I-it's no big deal." England stuttered. He was too soft on the lad.

America realized that he was still hugging onto England. He quickly pushed himself away from the British man. "O-of course," Alfred blushed. "Of course it's nothing." He hollowly repeated England's last words. He turned away to hide his red face from Art-England.

_What must I feel so awkward with him?_ The two nations rhetorically asked themselves.

* * *

England checked the back door to see if he was had forgotten something when he noticed that the US's swimming pool that was usually occupied by his whale friend was empty. _What happened to that whale?_ (5) England absentmindedly thought. Tony wasn't at home this month either (5). Not that the British gentleman missed those strange creatures US fondly referred to them as his 'friends'.

Once England was sure that all of the doors were locked and that he had everything he needed, England and America started walking to the neighborhood's library that was located a few blocks away from America's house. Alfred was wearing England's clothes, a white collar shirt and a pair of those blue pants called jeans. Although the younger nation had hard times imagining his former brother wear such casual type of clothing.

England was wearing the same set of clothes he had worn earlier that morning. He had managed to get his clothes to wash and dry before heading out the door. America's eyes literally sparkled when England announced that they were to be heading to the library to check out some books.

America's eyes widen in delight. "There's a real library here?" (6) It has been a good while since he last had the chance to open a good book. The last time he went to the library, Paine shoved that book in his face (7).

"Well," England scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "It's just a public library, it's not too big."

"A library! A library!" America chanted as he bounced around the streets like a bunny rabbit. He seemed to have forgotten that he was too old to jump around like a small child. The boy cheered and skipped a few beats, ignoring the weird stares from the residents who were within the mile radius that could see or hear him.

"America…" What keep the lad so energetic all the time?

"A library! A library!" What was his secret? Or was England getting old as the older America claimed?

"Just remember to be quiet and sit still, please?" England's tired look only energized the teen's enthusiasm even more.

"This is going to be so awesome! Ah huh," America stopped jumping around to nod to himself. He wasn't bothered that he looked like he was talking to himself on the streets, or that he looked strange for jumping around so much.

"America, are you listening?" America didn't pay attention to England's words. America was bobbing his head up and down to the rhythm of their footsteps. He was too busy smiling and waving at every stranger who walked by them. Strangers who were probably thinking that he was mental.

_I should let him enjoy this…_ England thought. _He might have to come back to his time period soon…_ England was sure that his past self would not be so forgiving on the past America for his succession from the British Empire. He had spent centuries mourning over his lost of his favorite colony. Even recently, had England still struggled with that day when his America left him.

"So where is this library England?"

England mentally groaned. The library was only a few minutes away, so why did this journey felt so long?

* * *

America just stared at the building. It was so big!

Proud and strong, the building stood at two stories tall. It windows' length was as long as one's arms stretched out from end to end, its clean glass surface gleamed and reflected its environment surrounding it. Around the area was the library's garden, which was adorned with flowers and blossoms, from blood red roses to liquid golden orchids. An old ancient oak tree sprouted its twisted branches that reached to the sky, enwinding its green silky leaves. The tree's roots rested beneath the soft fertile soil that provided the arbor life and nutrition.

Next to the entrance of the library was a metal pole that was twenty feet tall. The American flag was proudly waving in the air. The flag was new, yet slightly familiar to Alfred. Fifty bright stars rested against the liberty blue fabric that was on the upper left corner of the flag. Thirteen red and white flags stretched across the American banner.

At the library's door, a long rectangular double door, England pushed the door forward in order for them to get in.

The inside of the library was simple, but practical. Near the front of the library were comfortable couches that looked worn from years of use. Wooden chairs and tables were neatly arranged near some of the selves, which was where many of the computers were located.

There were arrays of book shelves lined up against the thick walls of the building. Each of the shelves was marked with labels of the author names and the subject of the following books that were listed in categories. To the right of the building was a small area that was labeled in block letters "Children Section", where stuff animals sat on the small round tables to accompany the young readers.

Near the exit of the library was a woman who was sat at the front desk, typing something on her computer. She looked to be in her forties. Plump and short figured, the librarian had short curly hair that went down to her neck. The librarian wore a woolen violet sweater with a pearl necklace around her neck.

When England and America stepped in, she told England, "If you need any help, I'll be at the front desk,"

"I'll be sure to ask you when I am in need of your help." England assured to woman.

"Okay, do you remember how you got here? Alfred!" England turned around to talk to the boy. Too late. America was caught up in staring at the long cases of the books. He was already into a book that he was holding in his hands.

Wonder accompanied America as he flipped a page, living in a different world from reality. His deep blue eyes were glazed with the words on the pale Chinese yellow paper.

"America," England tapped on America's shoulders to get his attention. "I'll be in the myths section, okay? I need to look up something for your problem." America turned his head around to jerk his head in response.

"Don't get lost!" The old nation reminded the boy. England did not know if America heard him or not.

* * *

**America's POV**

Was this really a library? It was so huge! Way bigger than the one nearby his old house. Back in the colonial days, America would occasionally visit Dr. Franklin's private library whenever he was in Philadelphia.

This library had everything. Alfred happily hummed a simple British bar tune as he strolled around the western side of the building. This side of the library had books on anthropology, listing the world's history and its contents. Human psychology books were filled to the brim on the left side of the section, while books on history were on the other side. America liked how the library was nicely organized that one would find the book of their chose in a short manner of time.

In many of the libraries he had previously visited in his time, many of them were in terrible disorder. The books would sometimes be categorized in the wrong topic or the author's names were unknown. The modern library had made sure the most of the book were in good condition and that it would be available for the public.

The book in Alfred's hand was rather interesting. It was written by a peculiar man who discussed about the nature of the human mind. How queer for the man to see that human's behavior would react in such manners in certain sequences. The contents of the subject were foreign for Alfred, as psychology has not become a true science of its own until the twentieth century.

* * *

***past***

"What going on here?" A sharp voice jerked into the small barn. The man that was caring Alfred turned back to see the intruder. "I heard a racket back there." Alfred lay still on the hay bed.

England?

It was England. Tall and strong, but had a grim expression on his dirty face that was splattered with mud and rain. His corn light hair was frizzy and puffed out from drying. His cheeks and eyes were red from either anger or possibly crying, and most of all, he looked tired. Overall, he looked like England looked like every now and then. Specifically on his birthday, the birthday of the United States of America.

As Alfred's eyes traveled down the English man's body, he felt a numb shock on his spinal cord. England was adorned in an eerily familiar uniform that still haunted US's mind. He was dressed in a madder red coat that went down to his knees. His scarlet red coat was also dirtied by mud and debris; his stockings were soaked up with blood.

Alfred didn't believe it. He really was in the Revolutionary War time. But how was that possible?

"I'm surprised you still decided to stick around," The man grimaced. "After getting defeated by the _traitors_." He mocked the nation. Stressing on the word, 'traitors' to further more humiliate Alfred's former guardian.

England hesitantly paused before responding. "I was just getting ready to leave." He curtly bit his lips.

The man just shrugged. "All right then." He really did not care. "Go meet your cursed King," Already, it seemed like England and America the countries were separated from one another, and the treaties were not even declared official yet!

"Good day," England obliged, as he prepared to leave.

US could not watch. "WAIT!" US stretched out his hand to reach for England. "Don't leave!"

England barely looked over his back. "What do you want?" He did not automatically recognize US. The two Americas had a three human year difference that was apparently enough to distinguish them as two separate people.

"Please stay," US whispered. "Don't leave me." He had to talk to England. He had to know how he got into the past. He needed to know if it was possible for him to return back to the present time.

England gave him a soft laugh. His bitter chuckle surprised Alfred.

"Why should I?" He asked. Who was this man? "We are clearly not wanted here." By 'we', England was referring to the British men.

"Don't leave." US made sure to allow his hoarse voice to remain firm. "It's still raining out there. Don't you hear the thunder?"

Thunder and lightning clashed outside. How much would it rain until there was no rain left for the sky to drop?

England frowned at the soldier who asked of him to stay. Wasn't he American? He certainly had the accent of an American. England scrutinized Alfred for a few minutes. He even reminded him of someone!

"Hey!" The other man cried out. "Why don't you bloody Brits leave already!"

"Let him stay!" US commanded them. "It's too dangerous for them to be out there in this type of weather!"

"The lobsters could suffer for all we care!" Another American sneered. (8)

"If we let them die," US reasoned. "Then their King will have reason to attack us."

"Let him stay." Alfred pleaded. "He's my friend." He ignored the gasped from his fellow countrymen. "I need to ask him some questions."

England stared at the man across the barn who called him his friend. He went over to Alfred's hay bed and sat down beside him.

"A friend you say?" England softly asked. He never had a friend before. Well, a friend that didn't betray him. He hardly knew this man.

"Well," US corrected himself. "I will be your friend. Someday."

_And later, more than that_, Alfred mentally added.

"What nation are you?" England questioned him.

Alfred grinned. "So you know?" Good. There was no need to explain to England.

England smirked. "I know a nation when I see one."

"I supposed it's from living around so many in one continent." America assumed.

"Perhaps," England replied. They were talking to one another like they have known each other for years. However, England did not know this.

US gently smiled at the empire. "How about I start by asking you some questions concerning about your America?"

The small fire crackled behind them.

* * *

**~present~**

Alfred was so contented with his book that he did not realize that he had been asleep when he was awoken up by Arth-England's urgent voice. "America! Wake up!"

"Huh?" Alfred was still woozy from his nap. "What time was it?" Alfred looked at the clock that was hanging on wall across from his chair. Crap! It was already six o'clock?

"It's getting late," England told him. "The library is about to close in a few minutes. Let's go home."

"Yeah," America nodded.

* * *

"Say England," America asked when they were midway home. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

England shook his head. "Your case is a special one, America." He looked tired and worn out from the whole day of search and read. "No one has ever successfully time traveled and made it out alive in one piece."

America gave England a questioning look.

"Time traveling…" England tried to explain. "It a taboo. It has its risks and those who have pursued it…" He paused. "die. From accidently killing themselves or having their selves accidently kill them."

America blinked. Time traveling was that dangerous?

"It's a time paradox." America realized.

"You know," England pondered, "The search would be a lot easier if you could explain to me what happened. Don't you remember anything?"

"Hey, I'm hungry!" America declared. Damn it! England cursed. Stop getting distracted! Ugh? Stupid America! Why couldn't he just focus? He was sixteen for God's sake. (9)

"Can we eat something else other than your cooking?" America asked. Was he suggesting that his cooking sucked? Why that little…

"What do you want to eat?" England casually asked him. He had no idea where to eat. He didn't know any food joints in America's place.

"Well," America pondered. "New York told me of this place where they sold these foods called ham-bu-ger." He made a bunch of wild hand jesters as he separated the three syllables of the cursed food that England loved to criticize so much.

What the hell was wrong with this family? England wondered. They were all the same. Them and their blasted hamburgers! England lost.

"I know the place he's talking about," England gave in. He didn't bother fighting over which restaurant to choose. He was too tired to try. "I'll take you there."

_What's wrong with me today?_ England thought. First he spared himself from yelling at America (too much), and now he allowed him to eat at McDonalds! England hoped that America would not remember anything when he returns to the past.

* * *

"Wow!" Once again, America was in awe. What was there in the future that was not cool? "This looks delicious!" His eyes sparkled. Okay, here the hell did these bloody sparkles come from? Did America steal those sparkles from that stupid frog again?

The two nations ordered and received one Big n' Tasty, two Chicken Sandwiches, two large bag of French Fries, four boxes of Chicken McNuggets, two cups of Pepsi, and one McFlurry with M&Ms.

"America," England tried to ask him again. "Do you remember how you traveled to the future?"

"Slllllppppp~" England watched with annoyance as the young nation took a long slurp from his second cup of pop (10). He had consumed nearly all of the food in a fifteen minute record. Apparently, this America could eat a lot too (11). The British nation only ate a Chicken Sandwich and ate a little bit of chips (10).

"Nope!" America smacked his paper cup onto the laminated table.

England groaned. "Anything at all?" He had to drag out the answer from his former colony if he had to!

"Well," America started nibbling on a French fry. "I was at war with you,"

"The American Revolution War?" England tried to sound casual. America noticed England's discomforted look.

"Think so," America dipped his fry whole into the ketchup sauce. "I fainted, but that's it. That's how I got here."

It sounded so simple. England was even more curious. That's it? America just fainted? Just like that? It felt like something was missing. England watched America take a last bite from his food.

"Well, that's go!" America cheerfully chirped. Did he remember what they had discussed? England watched America yahooed as he swung the door to go home.

* * *

England watched America when the young nation was asleep. His always smiling persona has faded into a calm state. His soft snoring was at an even tempo. Breath in…breath out…breath in…breath out…

When England and US were together, he had always enjoyed resting his head on US's muscular chest. The rhythm of his lover's breathing was like music to him. It calmed his nerves down.

England worried about the sake of US. Where was he? Was he in the past with the other England? The British Empire? England wasn't too sure if it was a good thing or not to know that US might have to face the British Empire. He wasn't too sure of how he would react back then with an America with over three hundred years of experience.

Two Americas. Both were stuck in the wrong time. England wasn't even too sure why or how they switched. America's earlier description of his journey to the future was too general. Too vague. England would have to research more to find out. New York had given England his cell phone in case of emergencies and to keep in touch with him if any of them were to have found the solution to the Americas' problems.

England took his time to look at the younger America. He had no noticeable muscles like his older self had. He was a nation fresh out of independence. His face was still childlike; his cheeks were round and soft like soft peaches. His cowlick was lazily swaying in the tranquilized breeze. Arthur caressed the teen, he was a child. He was still a boy. It was strange how Arthur felt to this America. This America was more like a brother to him than a lover. Not like the way it was for the other America. Why was that?

"Don't worry too much England," A faerie that was passing by said to the English gentleman. Her voice twinkled like the chime of a glass bell.

"I'm not." England hollowly said. He tried to wipe a tiny tear from his eye. He need to sleep now. England exited out of America's room to sleep in the guest room.

The Sandman appeared behind England. "Go to sleep," He insisted.

"I will." England murmured. He was too used to the numerous creatures that have always followed him. He changed into his pajamas and was soon under the covers.

"Sweet dreams England," The Sandman whispered has he welcomed England into his slumber with America.

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

**References:**

(1) – I heard from people that it tastes disgusting. What does blood pudding taste like? Would anyone like to tell me?

UK: My food does not tastes that bad! -waves arms around-

(2) RS: - _-;;

England: What are those punctuation suppose to mean?

US: Ha ha, the old man doesn't know what does mean? (BTW, I hate those scones you made for me the other morning.)

England: Shut up, stupid America! (Oh, and I hate those burgers you made in the second chapter.)

RS: I have nothing to say about those scones… (She actually likes them, and is American.)

(3) - Actually, the funny thing is, back in the old days, before the word 'gay' became slang, gay was used to mean happy. But from England's point of view, he thinks that America is making fun of his sexuality. Alfred just means it as it is. England is just overreacting. :)

(4) – People in general did not take baths very often before electricity was discovered to warm up bath water. It's interesting to note that today, compared to most of the world; we Americans are a bit OCD to sanitary. While we take showers on a daily basis, some nations, such as those in Europe, mainly take showers a few times a week.

(5) - Huh. I just realized. I never mentioned what happened to America's pet whale and Tony. The whale is migrating to Alaska and Tony is sharing rooms with New Mexico (he doesn't want to deal with the "fucking limey").

(6) – For the most part, many of the libraries in the colonial days were either private or owned by the town, but were very limited by the number and subject of books. So for Rev!America, a library is a very big deal for him. Too bad modern America doesn't see it the same way. He takes the luxury of books for granted.

(7) – The book Alfred is referring to is _A Common Sense, by Thomas Paine_, which is a book that argues why America should be independent from England and be freed from its imperialism. One of its famous arguments included that a huge mass of land (America) should not be under the rule of an island (England).

(8) – The American rebels were a bit brutal to the British at times. They were prone to mock, insult, and throw rocks at passing British soldier. When the British refused to give them taxation with representation, they burned paper dolls of King George and tortured the tax collectors. They would coat the tax collectors in glue, cover them in chicken feathers, and then hang them on a fence in rebellion to the rising taxes. The rebels were also known to force down several pots of tea down tax collector's throats in revolt against the Tea Taxing Act, choking or burning the poor victims.

Although it is interesting to note that only 1/3 of the colonists were against the British Empire. Another 1/3 of the American population was Tories, or the Loyalists who supported the British. The rest of the colonies did not care about which side was which and only wanted peace.

(9) - Oh, but England, you forgot that 16 years olds are always hungry and energetic. We teenagers get distracted quite easily. ^_^d

(10) – soda and French Fries

(11) – Americans have always been eating more than the typical European did, even back in the colonial days. They ate in bigger proportions and normally lived longer lives, depending on location.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

Does it look like I was trying too hard? I admit that I got a little carried away in some parts that it looked like I was getting off track. Enjoy my nice writing while it lasts. My writing style will only be like this while summer is still in the air. When school comes back, I will no longer have the luxury to have a full week to spend typing up nicely written chapters.

But other than that, thanks for answering my questions in the last chapter! Well, it's unanimous that most of us had written fanfiction for a long time and that it has definitely improved our writing. Most of you guys seem to be okay with OCs, depending if they are not too perfect or annoying that their existence is not for plain display. It's time for me to take my own survey~

UK: You type too much extra rubbish in your chapters!

RS: What rubbish?

UK: These extra side comments and these conversation between you and imaginary characters that don't exist.

RS: So you're denying your very existence?

UK: -_-; Stop taking up so much room with these extra crap!

RS: TT_TT

* * *

**WARNING:** REALLY LONG REPLIES. READ THIS IS YOU'RE ACTUALLY INTERESTED OR IF YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE BETTER TO DO.

**1. How long have you been writing fanfics? **

Since I was 6 years old, I have been making up random stories stored in my head, and I'm still doing that right now. I have been writing for, let's see… 3 years, not counting the non fanfic writing years in between. That's not a lot :(

Well, I wrote a fanfiction in Cyberchase and Powerpuff girls in 5th grade. Then I wrote a crappy Naruto one in 8th grade that I should delete right now, but I have never found the ability to do so. In fact, I'm too afraid to look back at it because of my terribly written OC. I also wrote a crossover of Naruto and Fullmetal Alchemist, but I never found the motivation to ever finish it. And the writing and its lack of actual plot irks me.

In 11th grade, I suddenly got into the Hetalia fandom, which made me begin to write fanfics on a weekly to monthly basis. I wrote a story about Vietnam's history that is still in progress. I wrote a 4 chapter story on Alaska, and I'm still trying to finish this fanfic that you guys are currently reading as we speak.

**2. How long does it take for you to type a chapter?**

It depends. It could last from 5 hours to more than 2 weeks. 5 hour writings are usually messily written and I often do this when I go through cycles of writer's block and sudden explosions of ideas that come out. Like the last chapter, when I just came back from school and testing D:

The 2 week writings are mostly because of additional research or because of school and other things from my agenda. They are more or less better written because I took the time to think over when I have just written.

Sometimes, I would be at the laptop for over 5 hours, but only typed less than 5 pages since I would stay at one paragraph rewording and rephrasing things until I am satisfied. Which is never, lol.

**3. How long are your chapters? (normally) As in, how many words. **

The first chapters of my fics are usually short, about 1,000-2,000 words. But after that, the later chapters will be as short as 3,000 words to 5,500 words, depending if I have much to write. As the story progresses, I will usually make the chapters longer. I like my chapters to be over 2,000 words.

**4. What kind of fanfics do you mostly write? (multiple chapters or oneshots, genres, etc.)**

Mostly multiple chapters, although I have the tendency of never finishing what I start :(

I'm planning to start writing oneshots later when I'm done with my multichapter stories, but I'm afraid that that day may never come TT_TT. I want to write my states OCs oneshots right now… But I'm afraid that I might get off track again…

**5. What do you think of OCs in general?**

To be honest, when I'm going though other people's stories, I automatically edge away from OCs. However, if cleverly written, I will accept the OC. In general, OCs makes me wary, minus Hetalia. Because Hetalia is a unique anime that is based on history, you can pretty much design any character of your wish, but still make it believable. It is also because that no nation is completely "pure" or "sinless" that makes them human enough.

**6. Do you write fanfics for fame or for the sake of the story? (be honest)**

I have always written fanfics for the sake of the story. Just for its plot and to get it out of my head. Although the fame does give me lots of motivation. It wasn't until I started Lucid Dreams did I actually got lots of feedback and attention from the fandom community. So it was mostly done for the story.

**7. Do you easily get side tracked easily from fanfics? Do you work on more than 1 fanfic at a time before you finish any of them?**

Yes. Almost always! Ever since I got into Hetalia, every time when I open my history book or read the world news, fanfic ideas fly at me. But I must restrain myself, because if I don't, I will never finish any of the stories I started! If I get side tracked too much, I start to forget where my progress is for the other stories. This is why I plan and plot my fanfics ahead of time, so that when I get back from school or writer blocks, I can still know what to write for my new chapters.

My other Hetalia fic, _The Red Flower_, is patiently waiting in my laptop to be continued TT_TT

**8. Would you say that writing fanfics have helped improve your writing? Explain your reason to why. **

Oh definitely. Fanfics had taught me how to write decent OCs without going over the border line of Mary Sues or Gary Stus. The criticism of others helps me figure out what the audience likes and what they do not like. Although I haven't actually gotten much feedback until recently, since most of the porpular fanfics are pairing fanfics, which is such a shame, really. Give the historical fanfics some love, people! Where is my yandere Conquistador!Spain? Or at least Facist!Spain? He wasn't always the lovable fool Romano loves and hates.

It was also thanks to my AP English teacher for toughing me up in his hard class. He never read my fanfics (oh god, that would be terrible and awkward if he did), but he did read the other stuff I wrote for his class. His criticism helped pumped up my writing style. Thanks Mr. Z! You were an awesome teacher, even though I didn't like your harsh grading.

* * *

**Witty Read and Review Propaganda Crap:**

**I think this is the possibly the longest chapter I have ever typed ._.;**

**Please read and review for the sake of Rain. As our author continues to tensely watch the FIFA tournament with Hetalia references floating about in her corrupted mind, she will write fanfiction in between breaks of screaming and crying over who would "score" and "dominate". She likes to talk in third person when she is bored. RS likes reviews. **

**BTW, has anyone listened to the full **_**UK's Song**_** that has come out today? You know, the marshmallow song? I just love listening to his voice! Does it sound weird that I was drooling while I was listening to his sound as I am typing this? Iggy can beat Sasuke any day! **


	7. Chapter 7: Embracement

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 7: Embracement**

**

* * *

**

**F.R.C.s, aka. Frequently Responded Comments**

**1. The French did not do most of the fighting! Americans fought too!**

I have received no less than 5 comments on this case. Okay, I get it. Sorry. This comment is a debatable one, so I'll rest my case there. That was just based off on a conversation that the Americans might have lost if the French army did not help them, but I guess it depends on your point of view of the war. Just to warn you, I may make more history mistakes later on. So far, most of my mistakes are pretty minor, but I'm just telling you ahead of time.

**2. There are lots of grammar mistakes and your wording is sometimes confusing. **

-hides in shame- I'm so sorry. I tried to make sure there were no mistakes, but it seems like a lot of my mistakes lie in being unspecific to certain actions, as it is sometimes confusing of who does what, and who is who. I tried my best to catch myself for those mistakes, but sometimes, I don't see them. Thanks for pointing those out to me. I'll be sure to someday go back to fix those. Maybe when I'm done with the story once and for all.

**3. America acts OCC.**

I'm not going to deny this one. I always felt the younger America would act a little more clueless. I'm not saying that he's entirely innocent, but he's a bit naïve for a country. He has just become independent for crying out loud. It also helps me so that I could distinguish the 2 Americas apart by personality. 200 more years of experience had to give the older America some character development, so the older one may seem a bit OCC for some people's taste. US can be serious too. So I apologize if my interpretation of the characters in this fanfic does not satisfy you.

**4. Since when was US England's lover? **

Um, okay. Here it goes. I already intended from the start that the 2 would be lovers, but I was planning to make it pretty subtle, that not everyone is aware of their relation, not even the states may know of their relation. In fact, even the 2 don't officially refer to themselves as lovers, but just see each other as a significant other. The older America is still in slight regret of leaving England during the war for independence. In real life, it seems that UK emphasizes the relation more than US does. I don't know if that helps answer that question.

**5. I think it's cute that the younger America blushes a lot ^_^**

This is not a question or a criticism, but yes. He does blushes a lot. With England, anyway. I think I enjoy writing blushing America too much. Don't worry; you'll get to see his other emotions later on. Whether they're negative or positive emotions, you'll find out soon. In the next few chapters. –laughs-

* * *

***Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. **

***Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred.**

**

* * *

**

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own that is Hetalia related are my amateur fanfics, my APUSH study guide, my Canadian flag keychain, several American flags, and the world map I have in my room. Stop bothering me. I just want to finish typing my fanficion –cries-.

* * *

***past* **

"How about I start by asking you some questions concerning about your America?"

England was taken by the man's chose of his words. _His America?_ Since when was that boy his to begin with? A small population of his people immigrated to America, but after that, the people had begun to form a new identity for themselves as a whole. As Arthur had to focus on his issues in Europe, Alfred slowly drifted away from him. His people were no longer his. He and America were no longer the same. No. They were two different nations with different ideals of life and how it should be governed. The man who was talking to him was now sitting on the hay bed.

England sneered. "My America? What do you want to know of him?" Arthur attempted to hide his fear of who the foreign nation was. He had not recalled of ever meeting this nation. Have they known each other? The man acted like he knew him. The nation spoke English, but with a peculiar accent he was unfamiliar with.

"It's not that much," US shrugged. He was planning to start their chat with something small. He needed to build up their conversations. He didn't want to frighten England by suddenly announcing to the empire that he was from the future. The last thing he needed was a raging England to start shooting him and accusing at him of being a spy.

England waited for the question. "This America," US carefully chose his words. "You know him, yes?"

England scowled. "Yes, of course I do." He didn't want to talk about that git right now. "How could I not?" He gave US a dirty look. "I raised that fool when he was still barely a settlement."

"You loved him?" US asked, but it was more of a declaration than a question.

"He was not like Europe." England hollowly croaked. "He understood me. He loved me. He was like a little brother to me."

Alfred felt a tingle of guilt when he watched England swallow his tears when he spit out his words like gun cannons. Alfred gently asked him. "Do you regret his independence?"

"Regret?" England repeated. "Of course I regretted it." He wiped a single tear from his left eye.

He looked at Alfred. "You are probably going to ask me if I think if he will make it through the future." He didn't brother to have US confirm his assumption. "The thing is, I do not know. I cannot predict the future. If he dies, he dies. If he lives, he lives. That is all there is to it." England said it so simply. Alfred was unsure of how to handle with this bitter England. This was worse than dealing with a drunk England on the American nation's annual birthday. At least the older England cried. The England he was talking to have no tears coming out. It just felt wrong. This England had just experienced the lost of his colony, and it was all US's fault, and he knew it.

England swallowed his words to give Alfred a hard look. "Why are you asking me this anyway?" He returned to his original stoic mood. "Why are you so interested in America? What are you hoping to gain by asking me these meaningless questions?"

US gave England a stern look. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that for you." His eyes were half lidded. "If I were to tell you so, you wouldn't believe me. I can only tell you that I am someone you can trust, and that America will someday be your closest ally." US was not yet comfortable enough to tell England more. He was a little hurt for hearing England call his questions 'meaningless'. He wanted to stall and wait a little bit more before getting specific on the questions. That would have to wait.

"Hm." England pressed his teeth against his lower lip. America his closest ally? It seemed rather unlikely. England secretly wondered if the man was off his boat. In what century would that ever happen? "I would not believe you? How so?" He was not expecting much from the man. Something told him that this man would not give him any information unless he felt the need to, or if he got what he wanted.

US chuckled. "Oh, it is just concerning of my presence." US smirked; his clear azure eyes glistened. England was definitely not dumb. The empire was definitely suspicious with him. Yet, Alfred was strangely calm and felt that he had control of the conversation.

England glared at him. "You will not tell me?" He knew it. That was fine with him. England was in no rush of dragging out answers. The other nation would only fight back. No need to start another war. Although he would not deny that he was impatient to know more about the unknown nation. The other nation seemed to be more aware of what was going on than England did. The empire was not yet ready to let the other man go off the hook. If he was a danger to the other nations, then England would have to do something about it. England was not ready for another world war (1).

"I will tell you." US replied. He paused. "Later."

England sighed. "You better tell me soon." His cold emerald green eyes narrowed. "Because my men and I shall begin our departure the week after to-morrow."

"On Tuesday?" US asked.

"On Tuesday," England agreed.

The empire involuntarily scratched his chin. "You have a rather queer way of talking young man. You have not told me what nation you are, but may I require your name?" The least England wanted to learn was the nation's human name. It was bothersome to keep referring the stranger as 'the nation'.

"Andrew." US introduced himself with a fake name. "Andrew Johnson (2)."

"Johnson." England took out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

US's hand reached out to Brit's. "The pleasure is mine." US smiled a genuine smile.

The two men exchanged all knowing looks to another as they shook hands.

* * *

**~present~**

"If you want to go to the library, you better hurry up." England reminded Alfred at breakfast the next day. England and Alfred were having a simple breakfast of jam and toast; they were in the rush to get to the library as early as possible. England had wasted too much time yesterday trying to get Alfred to adjust to modern life.

"Geez, England," Alfred groaned. He took a small bite of the burned toast in front of him. Yep, another work of England. Apparently, over two hundred years has not helped England improve his cooking. At all. And the old man claimed that he could do magic to top it off. How laughable. "It's only eight. Don't lose your pants."

England wanted to do a face palm for Alfred's strange analogy. He quickly recovered. "The library closes at five o'clock today, so we don't have much time."

"Okay." America yawned. He tossed his toast straight into the trash bin on his left side. He chose to ignore England's squawk of protest behind him. He wasn't hungry anyway.

* * *

"England?" America popped up behind England. "Are you done yet?" His surprisingly deep voice startled England.

"America!" England yelled. "Don't sneak behind me like that!" Was America there the whole time?

"Enggy! Don't yell!" America chided mockingly. "We're in the library!" He didn't hear the librarian's shhh at him and England.

America grinned. "It's not my fault you can't notice people when they're right in next to you."

England mumbled, "Don't you have something better to do?" Was this going to be like hanging around with US again? A man in a child's body with no interest in books? What happened to yesterday's America that was so eager to go read?

"Aw, but it's no fun wondering around the library by myself without you." America pouted. England was rather amazed that the younger America could tolerate hanging around with him after the boy had just gone over the Revolutionary War. England thought that America hated him for being so controlling. This America apparently wanted to be with him, and tagged along with him in a similar manner of a puppy. An overgrown puppy.

"America, if you want to go back into your time." England began to threaten him. "You will have to leave me alone for at least an hour or two so that I can complete my research." _In peace_, England silently added.

"That long? Okay." America's lower lip quivered. "I'll leave you alone." Without Texas, America's wide eyes gazed directly at England. Even when England turned his back to resume his search for books, he thought he felt someone's eyes were following him. England was too unnerved to look back. The older nation did not know why he was almost afraid to find that it may have been America who has been watching him.

_He's just a child._ England told himself. _There's nothing to fear from him. He's America. Just younger. America is America. _

It seemed like hours as England skimmed through book after book. The mythology section in the library was enormous. It covered over four bookshelves. Many of them were as thick as dictionaries. Some depicted potion making, others were on magical beings. There were books that aged back from the medieval times to as modern as last month. But in one section that was labeled, _miscellaneous_, the books seemed to have no relations to one another.

What made England's search harder than it was. There were no books on time traveling! There were several books that mentioned time traveling, but all of them carried the same message: _Do not attempt to travel through time_. For magicians, time traveling was almost a comparable taboo to reviving the dead. It was dangerous. Many magicians and alchemists of both the experienced and the novices have attempted. All have failed. All have died. There was nothing on Earth that was equivalent to time's power (3). No one has discovered what was equal to time. Unless there was something that America had or knew that made it possible for the young nation to possibly travel through time.

"Maybe I'm thinking too much on this," England rubbed his eyes. How long has he been staring at the books?

"England, you should eat sometime," America told England. He peeked over England's shoulders. "_How To Transform Your Enemies Into Toads_. What kind of magic are you looking up?"

"America what time is it?" England wanted to know.

"It's a quarter to one," America reported. "Why?"

"I guess I do need to eat." England rubbed his stomach. That (burnt) toast this morning felt so long ago.

"MacDonald's?" America suggested.

"No MacDonald's." England growled.

"Awwwww…" Alfred whined.

* * *

They ended up eating in a nearby café that was located in the central area of the small town. The services were good. England ordered soup and a cup tea; America ordered a tuna sandwich with carrot sticks as a side snack.

"Anything interesting besides turning people into frogs?" America sarcastically asked his former guardian. A carrot stick was hanging from the roof of his mouth.

England took a sip of his Earl Grey. "America, are you still mad at me for telling you to leave me alone?" England asked.

"No." America shortly answered. He aggressively bit into his sandwich. "I just have a headache."

"Is it bad?" England looked concern.

"No, I'm in good health." America replied.

"Are you sure you're all right?" England set his cup down to bent over and put his hand over America's forehead. His forehead was cold and sweaty.

America didn't like how close England was and pushed his arm away. "I'm fine, okay?" America insisted. He crossed his arms and looked away. "Let's go back into the library."

"America?" England asked him again. America didn't answer.

* * *

It bothered America of how close the English man was to him. Didn't he know what personal space was? Why did England have to do this to him? Wasn't England supposed to hate him? Wasn't he, America, the bad guy here? It was _his_ fault for making England miserable. It was _his_ fault for abandoning his brother like that.

Was England like a brother to him? America did not know what to say of the subject. He was not sure anymore. England had raised him when the empire found him off the Atlantic coast. England made sure to shelter him underneath his wings, to teach him, to love him like a brother of his own. But… As America grew up, he was unsure of his feelings towards England. America was now taller than England by almost an inch. It wasn't a big difference, but it was big enough for Alfred. England. England used to be so big. America always saw him as an important brotherly figure in his life. America always saw England's face greet him when he looked up. But now that they were equal in both body and in a fight, America saw England more than a brother. He began to feel a stronger pull towards the empire. Like a magnetic force. What was this feeling?

America was so scared of the newfound emotion. When England gave America new taxes, it felt like a smack in the face. It hurt America more than it should had. Why did he fuss over the taxes? England's people had to pay for taxes too (4). Was he just overreacting? Was he just trying to find an excuse to break away from England? An excuse to escape from the strange fluttering twists he had in the pits of his stomach whenever England was around him? America was unsure of whether to contain or release the feelings his had of England.

America was very aware of how much he would hurt England for leaving him. The empire had no friends in real Europe. England only had America and the other colonies. America's awareness of this made the youth's guilt deeper when he inflicted the hit on England in the war for independence. Not necessarily a physical hit, but an emotional one. An inflict that would form a new wall to separate and label them as two separate nations.

"America," England interrupted America's thoughts. "The library's this way." He pointed to the right side of the street.

"We're going back there again?" Alfred tried not to give away any feelings on his face.

"Yes." England saw America's slightly tired face and quickly replied. "If you don't like it, we can go home early today."

"It's fine." America told him. The new nation did not want to give England problems. "I'll just go find a new book to read."

England hugged America. "Don't stress yourself too much." The British man comforted the American teen. "I should be the one stressing out. I have to help you get home."

America didn't say anything. His cheeks were rosy in embarrassment. People in the streets were staring at them! He could feel their eyes following them. America may have not been from the twenty-first century, but he was quite sure that it was not normal for two males to be embracing each other in the middle of the street.

"What are you they doing?" A small child pointed out to the two nations.

"It's nothing honey," The child's mother replied. "Look away sweetie, pretend they're not there."

"Are they gay?" A random teenage boy asked.

"Isn't that illegal here?" Another person commented.

Alfred brashly pushed England away. "Art-,England. Let go of me." America mumbled.

This was too embarrassing. England forgot that America was only physically sixteen years old while the former empire was technically twenty three years old. To an outsider's point of view, England might as well be a pedophile or a child molester. Did they really look like they were not related? America wondered to himself. If it was between a father and a son, or even brothers, it wouldn't be so bad, right?

* * *

***past***

The sun was barely peeking through the horizon when England and his men have already began to pack up. Alfred gave out a big yawn when he woke up to stretch out his limbs. The man who healed him told the nation that he needed to continue to change his bandages if he wanted to heal quickly. US thanked him for his concern and exited the door to greet England.

"Are you guys going?" US asked England as he watched the empire double check his stuff to make sure that he had everything. England already had his extra clothes and bullet set and ready to go. His hair was hastily combed and he washed his face with water from a nearby stream.

"We need to get to town to catch a ride back home." England grunted. US realized that England's ride was a rather long one. There were no air planes in the eighteenth century. The British man's trip home would last a roughly a month. More or less. The thought of having to endure such as continuous journey made US feel slightly sea sick. US had to go through similarly long trips across the golden prairies during the immigration across the 'wild west'. There were was no fear of pirates or being shipwrecked, but there was still the fear of being attacked by the Native Americans or being caught in a tornado storm.

"I guess I'll travel with you too." US grinned. "I still haven't finished talking to you yet."

England smiled. "I admit, I a bit curious to see how our relation would end." He was referring to revealing US's true intentions of his strange conversations with England. The empire still did not know that he was America.

"Do you need help with that?" Alfred pointed to the musket in England's arms. The weapon was poorly beaten up by the rain and debris that was inflicted upon it. "You should clean your weapon properly." US reminded England. It was the same advice England himself had given to the Alfred when the young nation was learning how to use a musket.

The British nation remembered the same thing he told America years ago and turned slightly red in embarrassment. US watched blood travel as far as up to England's ears as the empire's pale cheeks transformed into the hue of a cherry. "There was no time to fuss over that. I was too tired to notice."

Alfred laughed. England still blushed, even back then? This was going to be fun! It would be amusing to mess around with him. Sure, England was not as thin or cute as he was in the present time, but he was actually quite muscular. England was supposed to be at the edge of rising to power (5). Give it another century and the empire would rule almost a quarter of the globe (6). The American was already plotting of several ways to get the British nation to show his vulnerable side. The empire's 'cute' side.

"What are you chuckling about, you twit?" England demanded. The man's boisterous laugh was so annoying! England only blushed further more when he realized that he was so focused with the sound of the stranger's voice.

Alfred abruptly stopped his laughing. "You just remind me of someone." He scratched the back of his head.

England huffed. "Well stop smirking and help me with this." The British man dumped a knapsack at US's feet. The bag looked worn out from years of use and abuse.

"Damn, what did you put in this thing?" Alfred whistled. "Boulders?" He swung the bag over his right shoulder.

Now it was England who was smirking. "No, just a few... extra equipment." US could not tell why England was had a strange look when he said that. What was so funny?

Now that the sun has risen, England found the opportunity to take a look at his new acquaintance. Tall and strongly built, the younger man had messy dirty blond hair that looked like it had better days. Tuffs of hair pointed in all directions, like the needles of a porcupine. He had clear blue eyes, the same tone as the color of the sky on a cloudless day. The nation was not fat, but he was not thin either. He seemed to be stuck in between. The younger nation had muscles, England had to admit. Not all over the place, but enough to show proof that the stranger was definitely not weak. This was not someone to mess with. The muscles of the man seem to have contrasted with the younger nation's seemingly carefree expression on his face. How peculiar.

"You too, remind me of someone." England quietly said.

"Did you say something, England?" Alfred frowned. Did England figured it out already? He was hoping to postpone dealing with England's rage on him.

England shook his head. What was he saying? "No. It's nothing." The empire must have made a mistake. He thought that he saw a familiar face in other nation.

"We need to start leaving if we want to get to the next town." England tried to change the subject.

"How far is the next town?" US promptly asked.

"The closest town with a harbor is about a few days away from here." England answered.

"Looks like you're stuck with me!" Alfred gave England the "I'm a hero" thumbs up, along with the typical Hollywood smile. Although the sun was only half raised, its rays bounced against US's teeth, making the teeth shine with radiance. The smile was enough to blind a normal man.

England sighed with wariness. "I guess that's how it is." He was slightly distracted with US's smile. The empire was busy wondering how did the git managed to achieve to get his teeth to twinkle like that. It was a bit disturbing.

"Hey, get moving!" The general's voice echoed through the barn. "You need to hurry up if you want to make to the next town on schedule!"

"Coming!" Both England and US responded.

* * *

**~present~**

Alfred found himself lying on his side when he woke up. He was in a dark room. The lights were low and he did not know where he was.

"Where am I?" Alfred murmured to himself. Did England shoot him? America checked his body to find any wounds. There were none. He was still in the future. America remained on his side. He rubbed his temples in frustration. The last thing he remembered was that he had a pretty bad headache when he and England were having lunch. The pain on his forehead lifted. It was no longer present. It was gone.

"You're awake." America heard England sigh. England was checking on him. The English nation opened the door to turn on the lights.

"What happened to me?" America did not want to know what happened after the incident at lunch. _He hugged me!_ Alfred thought. _England hugged me!_ He comforted him! His insides twisted when the teenager replayed the scene in his mind. His feelings around England were still here, even though England from the future appeared to be more kind and patient than the younger England America fought earlier.

"You fainted at the café," England explained. "So I had to carry you home to rest."

Alfred could imagine England's complaints along the way. America was not the lightest person in the world.

Out of habit, England rested his hand against America's temples again. "Are you feeling better?"

"I think so." America responded. "How long was I unconscious?"

"About half the day." England checked his watch. "It's almost seven." Oh crap. It was a past dinner (7).

"Sorry for making you miss your time at the library." America apologized.

"It doesn't matter." England said. "Your health is more important than the research. I don't want you to return to the past in bad condition." He was now sitting on the side of America's bed.

"You didn't bring any books back with you?" America asked. He wanted to see some of the stuff England looked up.

England briefly fixed the collar of his shirt while telling Alfred, "I don't have a library card."

"Oh." America said. They spent several awkward minutes not knowing what to say to each other. One could practically hear the chorus of crickets in the background.

England finally broke the silence by suggesting, "How about you go eat something?"

"And die from food poisoning?" America wrinkled his nose. "No way!"

"What is wrong with you?" England raged. "Your taste buds don't know the taste of delicious when it tastes it!" He angrily sat up and stomped out of Alfred's room in a small fit.

"More like the taste of disaster." America added to himself when he thought England couldn't hear him.

"I heard that!"

* * *

"What a pain in the arse." England mumbled to himself that night.

The English man turned on the lamp's light switch that was located on the bedside. The bedroom lights were off. The only other light source that was shining on England was the light of the moon. Once again, England was lying in bed. The faeries that were normally accompanying the nation had settled down, the crickets were happily chirping, there was nothing to disturb England. Nothing at all. There was nothing better to do than to read the great works of William Shakespeare (8). He opened _A Midnight's Summer Dream_ (9) to continue to where he had left off.

_Robin: _

_Through the forest have I gone._

_But Athenian found I none,_

_On whose eyes I might approve_

_This flower's force in stirring love._

_Night and silence, who is here? _

_Weeds of …_

Before England could read further, he felt something bump against the bed.

"Ack!" A small voice cried.

Huh? England stopped his reading to look around. What was that? He turned left and right to look for the source of the sound. He felt his way around his covers. There was something soft. It was very silky. England's fingers toyed with the unknown being.

"Ouch. England!" The British man heard him huffed. "That's my head!"

England blinked. "America?" What was he doing here?

"Yea 'ngland." He heard America mumble. It sounded like America had something in between his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" England was trying to understand why the American teenager was in his bedroom at this hour.

"I c'uld't sl'p." For the love of God, the teenager was starting to sound like Sweden.

"America," England started. "Stop mumbling and talk properly. Didn't I teach you better than that? And stop chewing things!"

America grumbled as if took his mouth off the pillow. England threw a pillow to Alfred's face when the older nation was feeling his way around.

Once the pillow was out of the way, Alfred proceeded to his statement. "I couldn't sleep! There, happy?" He childishly stuck out his tongue at England.

"Is that all?" England asked him.

"Yes." It looked like America didn't like to admit something. "I was reading a scary story."

England sighed. "Which one?" It was strange that for a country that was frightened by tiny things, the American nation loved to read or watch 'scary stuff'. America could suffer though bombs and assaults without a single tear, yet he could not stand watching a one hour movie without screaming like a little girl? Half of the movies the older America recommended to England were not even considered scary.

America gulped. "_Frankenstein_." He nearly whimpered when he spoke of the book's title.

US kept the book? England was slightly surprised. US did read the book when it was released, but he complained that there was 'no action'. That was very evident when Hollywood's version of the novel came out. England remembered criticizing it to America. The monster was not green! Victor Frankenstein did not have an assistant, the man was not insane, and the monster's name was not Frankenstein! Stupid American adaptations. Anyway…

"Was it scary?" England casually asked him.

"Y-yes!" Was it that hard for the American to admit that he was scared? England wondered. "C-can I sleep with you tonight?" America gave England pleading eyes.

England was irritated. "Absolutely not!" If America was still a child, it would have been cute. But America was a grown boy! It was _not_ cute. No. It was not. England refused to acknowledge that his former colony could still be considered cute.

"Why not?" America demanded to know.

_Because this was ridiculous_, England wanted to say, _because_ _you are too old to be sleeping with me_. Although spending many nights watching horror movies with US had said otherwise. Ever. Single. Time. The young world power would sneak into England's bed after a session of watching _The Grudge_. It was silly. Not to mention bizarre.

"Too bad." America said. "Because I'm staying here."

"W-what?" England fumed. What nonsense this was! "There isn't even enough room for the two of us!" That was lie. There were so many opportunities where England and US had shared beds with each other, but England was not willing to let America know that.

"You know what, America?" England started. "Go ahead! I don't care! Just don't bother me!"

"I won't." America quietly said, as he made himself comfortable. He slipped under the covers with England; the teen was adorning blue pajamas that night. America nuzzled England. England was so warm.

"I-idiot!" England was not prepared for that. "You're going to push me off the bed if you do that!"

"Sorry." England heard America apologize. The teen sounded a little down.

"A-america?" England asked. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Was there another reason to why America was here? He felt slight regret for scolding America.

That guilt again. It was constantly nagging him. England always felt that he needed to be more cautious around the younger America. He seemed so fragile at times. It was stupid to think of things like that, but England remembered that compared to US, America had lower self-esteem (10). He was weaker than the other America. He was a teenager, and from the former empire's experience, teenagers were moody and were prone to being emotional. America wasn't like US, who was so strong and seemed to be untouchable by any of the insults flung at him by the former empire. In a way, England admired US for being so sure of himself.

America closed his eye. Was he already asleep?

"England," America opened his eyes again. "Tell me about my older self." It was not a question, but a demand. His blue eyes were as clear as day. They glistened. Tears?

"You want to know about US?" England asked. That was rather sudden. "What do you want to know about US?"

"Everything." America requested. "Tell me. What is he to you?" His cowlick, Nantucket, stood off from his hair. It looked like it was almost twitching.

"I…" England did not know what to say. What was there to say? That the nation was a fool? An idiot? A man who couldn't read the atmosphere when it was smacking him in the face?

America patiently lied there and waited for England's response.

"US." England started. "He is dear friend of mine." America was just an ally. That was all their special relation was. At least it was supposed to be. England could only say that. A friend. That what he told everyone around him. Perhaps their relation was more than that, but England the nation told Arthur that the relation would not be convenient for a game of laws and politicians. Not when there were other consequences to consider.

"A friend?" America whispered.

"He was probably the closest ally I have had." England admitted. "He was naïve, an idiot. Couldn't read the atmosphere if it came knocking at the door."

America didn't say anything. He was so quiet. England almost thought that the teenager was asleep. "What else?" He wanted to hear more. About US. Himself. His future. There was so much he wanted to know.

England finally set down his book. He was no longer reading it. "US. He was not the brightest, but… he has a good heart." England felt like he was being cruel if he didn't give any credit to US. He had to give the American nation some points for stopping a few wars, although US had the tendency to arrive in said wars at almost the last minute (11).

"A friend?" America softly repeated. He almost sounded disappointed. "England?"

"Yes?" England replied back.

"Please tell me more."

"Please, America." England was getting tired. He patted America on the head. "Tomorrow."

"But I'm not tired." America argued.

"America." England turned off the lamp before resting his head on his pillow. "I need to sleep. We have days to talk of this. Good night." England closed his eyes after those words slipped out of his lips.

"England…" America lied there. His body was facing England's. "Just friends?" America did not know what to say to that. Was that the best to hope for? After a nearly a century of avoiding each other? Friends? He could not help but feel like his heart has plunged into the darkest sea.

"England?" America called again. "Are you awake?" He sat up to check and saw that England fast asleep. How could he fall asleep so quickly (12)?

America pressed his forehead against England's. The older nation's forehead was so cool in contrast to Alfred's warm skin. England looked so calm when he was asleep, he was smiling. Alfred wished that the other nation would always look as happy as he was right now. England always looked stressed out, ever since Alfred's surprising arrival. The English man's cheeks were so pale, Alfred wanted to reach over to touch them and see if they were as soft as they looked. How long Alfred would be stuck in the future? How long would this pass? Was there any hope of returning? Alfred decided that he needed to rest.

"Good night… Arth-England." The teenager wrapped himself with a part of England's blankets, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Alfred took a long look at England's peaceful state before finally closing his eyes, allowing his mind to dive into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

(1) – Before America's independence, there were several global wars in the seven seas. Many of them were concerning of imperialism and trading, but it was definitely not on the whole world scale like it was in WWI and WWII that occurred later in the early 20th century.

(2) – US took Andrew Johnson as his fake name.

Andrew Johnson(1865-1869) was the 17th president who was elected after Abraham Lincoln's death. He was described as a president who was from Tennessee, the south, but was hated by the north for his southern ideals in politics, such as adopting the Black Codes, a law that separated former slaves from white citizens. The southern half considered him to be a traitor for joining the government with the northerners. Either way, he was hated by both sides for different reasons and was considered by _The American Pageant_ textbook to be an outsider. He was quick to forgive the southern states who succeeded from the Union in the American Civil War (1861-1865), much to many of the northerner's irritation as many of the northerners still saw the southern states as traitors.

(3) – I'm just adopting this method based on Equivalent Exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist. Eye for an eye, ear for an ear, etc. I'm a bit sad that the manga series has already ended.

(4) – England had to pay his debts for the 'world wars', including the French and Indian War. Compared to the American colonies, English citizens had to pay more, sometimes more than twice as much. Ironically, after the Americans won their war for independence, their citizens had to pay even more taxes for the money they spent in the war of independence itself. Increasing taxes were not the sole purpose for America's demand of independence, but rather one of the many factors that has helped build up the pressure for a war of independence. Like I said in the last chapter, only 1/3 of the American citizens actually wanted independence.

(5)– It's just a theory of how a nation's state effects his/her condition. If the economy is bad, they get sick. If a colony becomes less dependent on their founders or they gain more land and experience, then they grow up and eventually become free. In this case, I like to think that as a nation gains the status of an empire/world power or that they begin to take in more control of world events such as imperialism/conquering new land, having a better economy, etc., they become stronger and have more power than before. If you don't understand this, I'll try to explain this again in the next chapter.

(6) –The British Empire was at its peak in the 19th century. England sure took over many nations back than didn't he? England, you freakin' pimp. If I am incorrect in the percentage, I'm sorry for my inaccuracy.

I'm not saying that the present England is thin and girly like some fanart portrays him as, but I'm just saying that he's not as strong as he once was, after losing all of those colonies. After all, England is still a world power, so he still has some muscles there. He's just not as powerful as he used to be in his empire days. According to US's point of view, he thinks that England is 'cute'. What can I say? America has a strange sense of what is cute.

(7) – America, is food all you can think about? Haha, I hear complaints that all boys and men can think about it food, but that's not true is it? But the guys I know seem to say yes to the food part.

(8) – I always see England as that man who enjoys literature. Shakespeare originated from him! Although Shakespeare was considered a great play writer, some people have accused him of copying and mimicking other play writer's works up to this day. It's interesting to say that the man nearly died on the same day as his birthday, April 23. Makes you wonder if he intended that.

_(9) - A Midnight's Summer Dream_ is a comedy play where the main characters fall in love with in other left and right when stuck in a magical forest full of faeries. No wonder England loves it. There is lots of drama and lots of magic involving making a person 'fall in love with the first living being they see' type of thing. A very amusing play. Even funnier when you see it live. England is such a romantic isn't he?

(10) – According to Himaruya's character profiles, it was said that America was once insecure of himself since he had no history.

(11) – During WWI, America did not enter into the world war until a few months before the war ended. The reason why America was late was because they were extremely isolationist, although not to the extreme like Japan was. They tried hard to avoid any foreign relations. This extreme isolation was thanks to President George Washington's(1789-1797) word of advice in his Farewell Address in 1797 to avoid any close foreign relations after being stuck between a war of England and France shortly after the American war for independence. After having several Americans killed by German submarines, America submitted itself into the world war.

Although they arrived late, the Americans helped the Allies greatly as it was their sheer number that helped end the war. The Allies in Europe provided most of the weapons and transportation for the American soldiers, so it was not the American weapons that helped win the war. There were always extra American soldiers to come in to aid the Allies. In fact, less than half the registered American soldiers ever had to step into a battlefield.

Even after WWI, America remained isolationist. It still traded with other nations, but it did not depend heavily on foreign trade like it does today. It wasn't until WWII when entering the Cold War and creating NATO did America began to form deeper foreign relations; including Churchill's famously quoted "special relation" with the United Kingdom. America's rise from isolation and claiming status as a world power has also resulted in America becoming more involved with world affairs.

(12) – I suffer this problem when I sleep in a room full of people, like at camp. I'm sure some of you guys go through the same issue. You go to sleep, and there are people who fall asleep almost the moment their heads hit the pillow. You however, are still awake and you end up being the last one to fall sleep. I envy people who could fall asleep so easily.

* * *

**Notes:**

RS: -checks laptop- Wow, this chapter was typed for 20 pages, that's about 8,000 words O_O. But if you exclude the side comments and author notes, I only typed about 6,000 words. 2,000 words of extra comments… Wow.

US: Is it necessary to keep on counting the pages and words?

RS: Hey! I did not know that it was possible for me to extend my limits like that! -turns to readers- Thanks for the reviews guys! I almost had a heart attack when my other chapter received nearly 1K hits the day it was released! You guys are so awesome! If I could sew, I would make USUK plushies for all of you guys!

UK: -cries-

RS: O_O England? Are you okay?

US: -_-;

RS: America? What's wrong with England?

UK: The Americans can't read the atmosphere! TT_TT

US: Today's Sunday, right?

RS: Is it? -checks calendar- Hey, it is! Wait… It's your birthday today!

UK: -cries even more-

RS: D-don't cry England! -hugs him- It's okay! Alfred still loves you! Right?

UK: -pushes RS off- Baka Amerika! Baka baka baka baka, baka!

RS: Is he drunk? –looks worried-

US: I think he is…

RS: Rum?

US: Looks like it.

RS: Well, do something! I don't know how to handle drunken guys!

US: I'll see what I can do! -goes to England- England? You okay, man?

UK: Why don't you love me anymore? Wahhh! You never call me Arthur anymore! Why did you leave? Why can't you stay with me? Why can—

US: England, be quiet. –kisses him to shut up-

UK: -shocked- 0/./0

RS: -shocked- -starts taking out camera to catch the beautiful moment-

US: -talks softly- England, I'm still here with you. Don't cry. –picks up England and piggy backs him- I'm going to go find some aspirin for the old man. –leaves- Tell the fans I love them!

RS: -/o/- Okay. –watches them leave- Why can't real life be this cute? I guess an update of another chapter is like a birthday gift for Alfred's birthday. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

**

* * *

**

**Please read and review to help fuel my sudden mind blow. It looks like the new chapters will keep coming! **

**America's birthday has been passed down the independence line for 234 years line since the Declaration of Independence has been signed. Happy birthday Alfred! We love you! Please make sure England doesn't get drunk again. **


	8. Chapter 8: Carrying

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 8: Carrying**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! Hetalia Axis Powers is copy write by Himaruya-sensei! I'm glad he thought of Hetalia, or else I wouldn't have gone back to fanfics! Thank you for your inspiration sensei!

* * *

***past***

It has been a few hours since he and England had left the barn that has been sheltering them. The bright sun was hovering above them, kissing the wet dew on the grass. The corn blue skies were clear, except for the occasional light clouds or a flock of fowls that would pass by. There were signs on the field that suggested violence, such as the blood stains that patched certain areas of the environment, or the remnant smells of rotting flesh that has not yet been washed away by the rain. The seemingly peaceful scenery mocked the soldiers who have endured the long lasting battle that has finally come to an end (1).

The nations and their men have left almost as soon as the sun has risen, but have only made it through several miles. For the most part, the two groups merged into one as both sides were heading for the same direction. They have come to fight. The war for over. Their duty was done. There was nothing left to fight for. Only half of the group had horses. Because of that, many of the men, including US and England, had no chose, but to travel by foot.

"England?" US called out to the British nation. The American man was right behind him. For a small nation, England sure walked fast.

"Don't call me that." England corrected the young nation. The British man was walking in a rather brisk manner, never looking back. "The humans may hear us." It was risky to reveal to the humans of who they were. None of them knew of their existence.

"Okay, okay." US clicked his tongue. "What should I to call you then?"

"Call me Arthur."

"King Arthur." Alfred played around with England's human name.

"Don't play around with a King's name!" England chided.

Alfred didn't seem to take much notice of the scolding. "That is a beautiful name." The American dreamily said. "Arthur…" He didn't notice England's face ting slightly pink.

"W-where did you get your name from?" England asked the young man. He was hoping to find out more about the stranger. To get the stranger to trust him more. Start with the easy questions, than start to slowly build up to a closer relation. It was like taming a lion. Earn the creature's trust before jumping into the process of teaching the animal how to take food from your hand. Failing to do so, would result in getting attacked or killed by the lion's claws. England certainly wouldn't want to fall under Johnson's anger of mistrust. The young man held a strange aura of power and strength.

If there was one thing England was reliable on, it was spying and praying out information from his enemies. But… Johnson was not an enemy. At least the empire hoped that the young nation was not an enemy. He seemed too happy. Too nice. Although a certain Russian's seemingly cheerful composition seems to say otherwise, but it seemed unlikely that Johnson would wound up to be another Russia.

"Who? Me?" US pointed to himself. Who else would England ask?

"Of course, you! Who else am I to talk to, you git?" England snapped. Who was he talking to? A six year old?

"You know that that was a rhetorical question, right?" Alfred pointed out.

"Oh, sod off." The empire mumbled.

"I was named after one of my bosses." Alfred brightly answered. "He died awhile ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," England apologized. "Was he a good man?"

"He was a good man." America said. Although in his mind, Alfred numbly added that Andrew Johnson was actually considered a traitor by many of the American politicians. US didn't want to think about him. The man had shades of grey. He was one of Alfred's presidents. He wasn't the best leader for a nation, but someone had to carry out the job after poor old Lincoln was shot.

Alfred finally caught up to England. "England, can you slow down, man?" His raised his eyebrows. "You're walking too fast."

"Sorry," England shortly replied. He was doing a fast walk rather than a march. The younger nation was now walking side by side with England. They were nearly the same height. The American man was probably at least one inch taller than the British empire.

"If you keep walking at this pace, you'll get tired soon." The American noted. Both of them had to walk at a decent pace so that their men could keep up with them.

"I won't get tired…" England insisted, but began to slow down. "Some of us have horses."

"And some of us don't." Alfred added.

"We're not that far from the next town. We must be close!" England was losing an argument. He was trying to find a reason for his rush. He just wanted to get over with this. The British man was unsure if he could tolerate being in America for another month. He had just lost his little brother!

"I don't think so." US replied. He gave England a smirk. "But if you want to, you can go ahead…"

Their conversation was starting to get pointless. What were they bickering about? England even began to forget why he was arguing with the American to begin with. England mentally pouted. Oh wait. No. England mentally groaned. Yes. Not pouted. He was the bloody English empire. Empires. Don't. Pout. Period. His mind wondered off. Where was Alfred? After that bumbling fool shot the American boy, he hasn't seen him since. Arthur remembered searching for Alfred when the British nation retrieved to the barn where the rebels were resting. He couldn't help but feel disappointed and a bit distressed when he didn't see Alfred with the other American soldiers. Alfred…

"Alfred?" US's voice popped up. "America?"

England snapped back into focus. "America? Where?" He glanced around the trail in search for the dirty blond haired boy. Where was the git in blue? "Alfred?"

US gave England a stern look. "You were saying his name." He sounded almost bitter.

"I-I was?" England frowned. He didn't mean to say that out loud. "I guess I did..." He couldn't believe it that he was already calling out America's name, and they haven't even signed the official papers for the American's independence. Most people probably didn't even realize that the war was over.

"You must be tired." US tried to shift England to another topic. "Are you worn out, England?"

"No." England calmly replied. "No. I'm not." It was barely noon! Or was the other nation just asking to spark a conversation between them?

"If you get tired, I'll carry you!" Alfred cheerfully told England.

The British nation snapped. "You will _NOT_ carry me!" No. Just no.

"HAHAHA!" US loudly laughed. "We'll see!" The American sang. That stupid prat!

"Damn it, Johnson!" The British man roared. "When hell freezes over, you'll be carrying me on your back! If that's the last thing you'll every do!"

* * *

"I hate you…" The English nation grumbled. He wanted to take back that comment he gave to Johnson. The British man didn't mean it. He didn't think that he would actually get worn out that easily.

Surely enough, US's prediction came true. After stopping for a brief lunch, the group of men continued to march towards their destination. As the sun angled at four o'clock, England collapsed in the middle of taking a step. Tired and out of breath, the British empire could not walk for another minute.

_How pathetic_, England thought. _The great British Empire could not walk the same amount of distance as his own men. _

"Awww, cheer up England." US happily chirped. "At least you have me here!"

"Yes, I'm so glad…" England sarcastically proclaimed. The American man was carrying England. On his back. How embarrassing. The British nation was definitely blushing. England felt heat reach up to his ears. When has he become so vulnerable to such silly emotions? England attempted to push away his squirming feelings.

US beamed. He didn't seem to pick up England's dry tone. When the English man collapsed on his knees, the American nation offered to carry him bridal style, much to England's horror.

"Fuck no!" England cursed, jerking away from US. He wanted to punch the idiot. "You will not carry me like that!" Fuck it all. Stupid Ameri-. Wait, that's not America. This was Johnson, right? Until now, England never stopped to realize that the two looked somewhat similar… It must be the eyes. Yes. It was the eyes. Although England recalled that a few of Alfred's children had the same eyes. Wait, does that mean the Johnson was one of Alfred's children? But Johnson was so big. England didn't recall any of Alfred's children to be fully grown up yet at this point.

"Heh," Alfred chuckled. He scratched his head. The American man wanted to grin. He was right. The younger England was fun to mess around with. US couldn't help but note that the empire weighed more than he remembered. How much did the old man eat?

"You know," US paused before he picked up England again. "You're sure heavy. How much do you weigh?" He gently took hold of England's hands and slung them over his shoulders. England squawked at the slightly touch of the American. Did the nation not know what a personal bubble was?

"You do not ask people for their weight!" The empire grinded his teeth. "And I do not weigh that much!" He was not happy to be carried by the younger nation.

"You know," US told England. "It would make the trip easier if you were to pull your feet up."

England ignored Alfred. Alfred thought he heard England softly murmured, "Sod off."

The rest of their journey remained rather quiet. Many times, the American attempted to start their conversations again, but England would just grip onto US's broad shoulders and just listen rather than participate in their talk. Most of Alfred's talk were random and made no sense what so ever. One minute, he could be talking about food in different areas of his place, and then, in the same breath, talk about whales. Whales? England just listened to the man rant; he would nod and give a few sighs.

"You wouldn't believe it!" US exclaimed. "These burgers were so good! It was a double sandwich with bacon and mushrooms. It was so hard to eat though…"

"You know," England finally decided to speak. "For someone who complains a lot, you seem to don't mind carrying me."

US smiled. "I'm not weak."

"I realized that." England trailed his eyes at Alfred's body. Even the modest American military uniform couldn't hide US's muscles. "Funny how Europe has never talked about you, since you seem to be so strong…" He looked at Alfred for an explanation.

Crap.

Alfred's dropped his smile. "Well…um…" US tried to think of something to say.

"Let's rest here!" One of England's men announced.

After the men hastily set up camp for the night, the soldiers of both sides headed out to do their tasks. Some were to collect firewood for the fire; others were assigned to hunt for game, while others, like England and US, just chose to stay at the site to make sure that the fire was kept from being blown away.

"America…" The grumpy Brit grumbled. "You can set me down now…" The American was still holding onto England.

"I know that!" US grinned, but he set England down to sit near the warm fire. England faced the fire to hide his fuming face at the sight of the American's smile. Why did he have to smile so much? The man's grin reminded England of Alfred's smile. It was almost painful for the empire to see that smile again…

The sun was no longer above their heads. The sun has set. Spectrums of red, yellow, green, and blue stretched across the sky. Each color was softly blended with the next, until the upper part of the sky was a dark shade of liberty blue, like the strokes of a paintbrush on a canvas. Clusters of stars scattered in the heavens, lighting up the sky for the soldiers to find their way through the night. Trees and bushes inhabited their rest area, rodents and birds nested in the tall trees, the chorus of crickets chirped in the nice cool evening. Like the stars, flowers gleamed in the night, twinkling on the damp floor of the soft earth. A breeze blew through the lush grass of the field, stroking each grass blade with the flick.

"Johnson…" England whispered. He was careful to make sure that the other humans didn't hear him.

"What is it, England?" US asked. England felt slightly sad when US still mostly referred to him as England. Didn't he tell the American to call him Arthur?

"Thanks for worrying about me." England thanked the American man.

US blinked at the British nation. "Why wouldn't I worry about you?"

England was not too sure of how to answer. "To care for a complete stranger like me. The enemy. So you Yankees aren't all bad…" What was meant to be an insult came out almost as a compliment.

"England…" Alfred stared at the empire.

* * *

Dinner consisted of dry biscuits and thin slices of meat. England watched in slight disgust as US devoured the meal like there was no tomorrow.

"Honestly, are you that hungry?" The British man nearly lost his appetite when US began to lick his every inch of his plate (2). The America still had slight pieces of meat hanging out from his mouth. How revolting.

"D'd y'ou s'y s'm'th'ng 'ngl'nd?" US's mouth was full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" England scolded. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Slow down!"

US was greatly amused by the English man's antics. It was just like old times. "Who are you? My mother?" The younger nation shrugged, but took England's advice and slowly chewed his food with his lower back jaws, allowing the food to properly slide down his throat. He took a long drink of water before he finally grinned at England. His smile widened as England turned red again. England was such a mother hen.

US heard the Brit mutter to himself, "Inconceivable git."

"Besides," Alfred passed insult and chose to pretend he didn't hear it. "I don't have a mother." His words were strangely empty.

England almost regretted touching that subject. "You have no mother?"

"Do any of the nations have a proper mother?" US wondered. "My mother disappeared a long time ago … (4)" His eyes were glassy. Alfred's vision slightly blurred; he was crying. England could not explain why he felt a sudden chill down his spine when he heard the last few words.

England felt pity for the man and patted him on his left shoulder. "I'm sure your mother is out there." England quietly assured him. The English nation was curious of who the other nation's parents were.

"Is she?" Alfred asked himself.

England allowed the American nation to cry out his sorrows. In between short periods, Alfred occasionally opened his mouth as if to say something, but to only close his mouth again. US refused to release a single whimper from his lips. He was determined to stop himself from making a big scene. He had to keep himself together if he didn't want to worry England any further.

England realized that US has been crying for awhile. It looked like the men were finished with their meals and were prepared to get to bed. England gently told US that they would have to move to find a good spot to sleep for the night.

"Let's not go." Alfred told England. "Let's stay here for a few more minutes."

"Is there something you wanted to say?" England asked.

"I'm sorry for crying like that." US formally apologized. "I'm not the type that normally breaks down like that."

The American continued. "It was rather childish of me to think of a mother who I'm not even sure existed." US looked so forlorn when he had spoken his doubts of the mysterious woman he had never met.

Now England was the one that felt his eyes begin to water. "Don't think of that as childish." England thought of his own mother, who has been decreased for over a millennium. "That is not something to apologize for."

"While we are in the subject of family," The English man tried to switch the topic. "Are you...one of Alfred's colonies?" He was quite aware of all of those affairs Alfred might have went through to produce several children, although Virginia (4) would always be England's child, whether the girl liked it or not.

"It's the eyes." England answered, when he saw US's confused face.

"I guess you could say that." US replied. He was still not ready to tell him.

"Which one are you?" Perhaps England had met him before?

Alfred paused. "Kentucky." US feared of naming an actual colony. He didn't want England to realize that he may have been lying. It would be safe to answer with a state that hasn't come into existence (5). Technically, he was Kentucky, because Kentucky was a part of the United States, therefore, he was partly Kentucky, right? US hoped that Kenny wouldn't get mad at him for borrowing his name for awhile.

"Kentucky?" The empire pronounced the name of the state with brunt effort on the 'uck'. His tongue curved to the back of his mouth. "I have never heard of that colony before."

"Well, there are a lot of us." Alfred was referring to the states.

"I guess there are," England agreed. Kentucky, eh?

"I think we made lots of progress today." US declared.

England added. "We're getting closer." The Brit looked at his surroundings. He was surprised how cooperative the American and British me were. There were no violent quarrels, all of them worked hard to help each other. There were the occasional verbal fights between them in minor things such as how to cook a certain meat or how to address to one another, but other than that, it was peaceful. There were talks of politics, but the subject itself rarely popped up. England somehow had a feeling that these men no longer wanted to think about the government at all. They just wanted to get home to the families. They did not want to think anymore. They just wanted the nightmare to come. To think about the future seemed almost impractical to them. Pain has only made them look at the present and to value the present.

"We have been following this stream for awhile," US told England. "There must be a village nearby. I think I saw lights a few miles away."

"Let's worry about that tomorrow," England uttered. He was tired. "Let's first worry about making it out alive after this night."

"It can't be that bad." US tried to comfort his former guardian.

England's face grew dark. "I don't know. We might get attacked by the other American troops. Do they know we have surrendered?" He was scared for his people's lives. The empire wouldn't be harmed by the attacks of mere humans. He was just worried about the sake of his men.

The Brit's face reflected off of Alfred's bright eye. "Don't worry, England." The American's determined look just made him look fiercer. US's messy hair gave England the impression of a lion's mane. "If anyone tries to hurt you, I'll protect you."

Silence hit England in the head. He was again, unprepared for US's answer. The man was no doubt, a person who believed in justice. It was pure. Something about US told England that the younger nation really meant it. There was something about the man's aura thought told England that US would kill someone with his bare hands if it was necessary to protect the ones he loved.

"Let's sleep." US broke England's mind track. He turned to the English empire. "By the way, I think I might have to sleep with you tonight!"

"W-why?" England demanded. What kind of bloody nonsense was this?

"A hero is always on a lookout! Even if it means that they have to sleep on the floor!" He exclaimed, as if his answer was the most logical explanation of the century.

"I-idiot!" England whacked the American in the head with his left fist. Oh great, just when he thought Johnson was a decent person. Until he opened his stupid mouth about heroes. Someone was being full of himself.

US moaned as he rubbed the spot where the English man hit him. "Geez, England, so violent."

"Just go to sleep, you wanker."

"What ever you say, England~!" England groaned as he buried his face into his blanket. What has he gotten himself into?

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

(1) – The Revolutionary War officially ended in 1783, but the fighting continued in some areas because the speed of spreading news was rather slow. This is true for many wars until later technology improved the speed of transportation.

(2) – You know, I think it's just gross to watch people eat in general. At least if you were to watch the way they digest their food. It's disgusting. Maybe it's just me.

Yes, you heard me right. Virginia is related to England, the same Virginia that New York seems to fear so much. And no, England did not conceive Virginia with America. Virginia was named after Queen Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen. No matter how I look at it, I will always see Virginia as a state originally found by England.

Actually, a fair number of Alfred's states were originally British, and I'm not talking about just the 13 colonies. The original 13 colonies are the present 18 states. About half of them are directly related to England while the other half are either related to Alfred or are the children of other nations and were adopted by Alfred. As US continues to grow, he keeps adopting and conceiving more children, meaning more affairs. My US, you are such a player.

England is definitely very aware of US's sex life, although lucky for him, only half of Alfred's kids are actually related to him. At least that doesn't mean US had 50 or more nights with a stranger. How jealous Arthur must be. The rest of the remaining states are adopted from other nations like Sweden, Netherlands, Spain, Mexico, France, Russia, England himself, one nation (Hawaii), and several republics that succeed from their original parents (CA, TX, VT, etc.).

(3) - I believe that Alfred's mother was North America, but I won't go into details about her. Is England feeling guilt here?

(4) - The Colony and Dominion of Virginia was present day Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky. Kentucky became its own state after the War of 1812 and West Virginia succeeded from Virginia during the American Civil War in 1860.

* * *

**Notes:** Sorry for taking such a long time to type this up. Ideas were coming rather slowly to me this week. I had the ideas in my head, but it took awhile for me to know what words to use. The heat is not helping either.

I struggled with trying to keep this chapter entertaining, but serving its purpose. Nothing exciting so far. The next chapter will definitely have some action. Probably. I had trouble balancing out US of being between annoying and being serious. I hope I did okay. I am posting this chapter on a Friday because I will not be here on Sunday. I am going to be on vacation for a few days, so enjoy the chapter.

UK: I can't believe you made me so uke!

RS: Well, you know what they say! You can't spell uke without "UK"! d^_^b

UK: -starts cursing RS-

RS: -hugs UK- England, why so moe?

UK: I'm not moe! -blushes- What the hell is that suppose to bloody mean anyway? I hear Japan say it a few times… -pushes RS away- Stupid fangirls…they even haunt me in my sleep now.

RS: -pouts- (Note: She has to look really up at England because of the 9 inch difference _.)

UK: Are all the Hetalia American fans like this? -stares at the crazy author-

RS: Maybe.

UK: Oh bullocks. As if America wasn't already a nuisance.

RS: *^_^*

UK: D:

* * *

**Please drop by a review. I like to see what you guys think of the story so far. I know the story is confusing, but I'll eventually explain it in later chapters. **

**While you're there, can you guys please go to my profile and answer a poll for me? It won't take that long to answer the question, I promise. **


	9. Chapter 9: Red

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 9: Red**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I have no witty comments to add. Don't expect any.

* * *

***past***

When England opened his eyes, he found a person's face right in front of him. Their noses were nearly touching each other. One sudden movement and they would probably slam their heads against the other. The stranger had porcupine hair that stuck up in odd angles. His glassy eyes stared back at the British man.

"Alfred!" England growled. "What the hell are you doing?" What on Earth did the boy think he was doing? Showing up at the worse time of the day Decided to come rub England's lost, did he? Why…

"Alfred?" US pretended to be confused; he ignored the sudden sprint of his trembling heart.

"I should have taught you some manners," The Englishman complained to himself. "Walking into my quarters without asking for permission."

England thought that he was America. The empire's eyes were darting around the room; he never looked at Alfred in the eye.

"England…" US tried to convince him. "I'm not Alfred." He stared at England. Was his former mentor usually this cranky in the morning?

"Sure you aren't." England flipped him off. "And I'm not the British Empire." It was odd to see the English nation display such a vulgar gesture. Then again, England carried a strange combination of both the characteristics of a gentleman and a punk. God knows that else the man did in his long lifetime.

"England," Alfred tried to remain calm. He took England's hand. "You shouldn't be doing that with your hand." He struggled to rearrange England's hand position; the Brit was surprisingly stubborn. _I must not panic_, US told himself. If he panicked, he would give away his cover to the older nation.

"And why not?" England asked, pulling his hand away from US's reach. He was not in a pleasant mood.

"Because," US patiently told him. "I'm not Alfred."

"Alfred."

"It's Andrew." Alfred attempted to correct him. "Look at me, England." US ordered.

"No!" The Brit resisted.

"Listen to me." US forced England's head to face the American. "I'm not Alfred." The American whispered. "I'm Andrew. _Andrew_." Alfred was a good liar when he wanted to be.

The Brit's clover green eyes blinked. "Andrew?" He looked at the intruder. Alfred was forcing England's head while the Englishman had his hand gripping on the collarbone of US's shirt.

"Oh." England sighed. The empire's hand was still stiffly holding onto Alfred's collar. "Johnson."

"Glad you're still sane." US bit his lips. That was awfully close. Too close.

"I'm not mad." England told him. He was not insane! Was US angry at him?

"Sure you are," US replied as he gently pushed the British man away from him. Defeated, England released his grip on US. Alfred seemed untouched by the fact that England had attempted to choke and suffocate him.

"I'm not!" It wasn't England's fault that Alfred and Johnson looked so much alike! It was quite unnerving! From the oval shape head to their body structure, their broad shoulders, Alfred and Johnson looked like they could be brothers. It seemed so unlikely for a father to have a son that nearly looked identical. The chances of that to happen in real life were rare and unlikely.

"Oh, but you can't help that," Alfred said. He wore a poker face as he recited an infamous quote from one of Arthur's fictional novels. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I am mad?" England fumed.

"You must be," said the American, "Or you wouldn't have tried to choke me."

England rolled his eyes at Alfred's strange replies. The empire didn't think that proved it at all. Their conversation was getting silly. Alfred gave a small huff. He hastily fixed the collar of his shirt. Seeing the American fuss over clothes was strange when he had never decided to comb his hair.

Alfred quickly went back to business. "If you don't want to get left behind, start packing up." He told the English nation. "The closest town is about an hour or two away. The villagers might be able to direct us to the shortest path to the nearest harbor town."

England glared at US. "Just let me wash my face first." England walked out of US's sight. The older nation needed to find a stream…

* * *

"This is the village?" England whispered

"Looks like it." US whispered back. Why were they whispering?

"Let's just get the bloody supplies and be on our way." England mumbled as his body turned to the direction of one of the shops.

US added. "We need to talk to the villagers."

"Do they know anything?" The English man was already sweating thinking of the possibly attacks he may receive from the unhappy Americans.

"This is their land." Alfred tried to explain. "They know it better than you do."

US might as well add 'you redcoats'. It was no secret that one of the reasons why England may have lost against the newborn nation was because the British empire was not familiar with the land. Skills and experience could only take you so far when you are not familiar with your surroundings. The Americans fought like those barbaric savages (6) and have won their war.

"It won't take long." Alfred told England. He took England by the hand. "I'll come with you." England could not find any words to say. He awkwardly accepted US's hand and allowed the American to lead him into the humble village.

* * *

Below a small hill was the village. The small settlement was built near a small forest that was still standing. The village was still standing and was lucky to have not been attacked during the revolution. Small humble houses were lined up in a row, weeds grew out of random cracks in the ground, and shops with colorful signs were displayed in no apparent order.

"Johnson." England grew impatient. "You can let go of my hand now." The American was still holding the Brit' hand. US's hands had a tough texture; they smelled of dirt and oil.

Only some of the men from the army had gone with them to enter into the village. The rest were to stay at a shelter where none of the villagers could see them. England thought it would be risky to allow any of the British soldiers to walk into the settlement, so in the end, England was the only British man in the group. It made England paranoid to think of what would happen if any harm were to come to his soldiers because of their foolishness.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" US asked England. He originally asked his former guardian to come with him out of loneliness and because England was his own kind. The American man enjoyed talking to his own citizens, but he didn't always have the chance to talk to England. Being with England brought some comfort to him and even a little sense of safety. England was stronger than he looked.

"We're already here," The older nation reasoned. "There's no need to turn back now." He couldn't tell the younger nation that the great empire's heart was beating in panic and worry. How long has it been since the last time he has stepped into one of America's towns without being trailed with blood and violence? It was hard to say when.

"I see." US nudged England. "Let's go."

"No need to drag me." The Brit grumpily replied. US just beamed at him.

* * *

After arguing with the American of what to buy, "No Johnson, we do not need two tons of beef. We can hunt for our own food." The two men winded up buying a small supply of bullets, blankets, and candle lights.

"Don't buy all of them, Johnson," England reminded the other nation. "We only need these for a few days. Don't use them all up. US forgot that conservation was a big deal in the older times. He was too used of being dependent on extra consumption of almost anything, really.

"Johnson?" The Brit looked to the side when he didn't hear US's response. Where was the idiot? England searched around the small general store for the blond man.

"Are you going to pay for that?" England turned to see the speaker, who was a short stocky man who looked to have been in his early forties. He must be the owner of the store.

"Of course." England flatly answered the man's question. "How much will this be?" He gestured to the items he had in his arms.

"That would be six dollars." The short American shortly replied.

England searched through his knapsack for the proper money. He handed over the coins to the store owner. "Is this enough?"

The English man did not realize that the beefy man was overpricing him. The actually value he had paid was twice the amount he needed to. The stocky man counted over the coins England had handed over. England waited for the man's acceptance of the money. After a few minutes, the man's eyes narrowed. He looked up at England. The British nation was easily a head taller than he was.

"Wait a minute…" The storeowner uttered to himself as he glared at England. "This is not enough. This is not money!" He roared. He pounded his fist against the hard wooden desk he was sitting at.

England stared at the round man. Not enough? Poppycock! He gave the man the proper amount didn't he?

"This is not money!" The storeowner grinded his crooked teeth at the British nation; his teeth were black from not brushing his teeth (7). "This is just a hunk of metal! What are you trying with me? Trying to cheat with me, are you boy?" He flung the coins at England. Some of the coins bounced off of England's head, scattering across the damp oak floor. England didn't notice or care when some of the beggars started to scramble for the loose change when they realized that the Brit would not pick up the coins.

The fat man picked up some of the coins and shoved it in England's face. "Does this look like money to you?" They were a mix of English and Massachusetts coins (8). The pieces of metal shone brightly gold and silver.

England's face remained unfathomable. He did not flinch when the older man's grubby digits that were nearly poking his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You better be!" The man huffed. "What are you redcoats doing in the village anyway? Huh? Haven't you had enough of attacking us?"

"We mean no harm." England coldly replied. "The war is over."

"That's what they all say," The storeowner bitterly replied.

"It is over." The English nation insisted. "We just need supplies to return to England."

"Look, lobster," The man kneed over the table. "We need to survive too. You don't have money."

"I do have money!" England snapped. "Can you not just simply take it?"

"Sorry, no can do." The owner didn't look sorry at all.

"Hey, Arthur!" US came from behind.

"Johnson," England has never been so glad to see the young nation.

"Any luck?" The American young man asked. "I asked some of the ladies back there and they gave me a nice map to the next harbor town!" He waves his hands towards the back of the room. A few of the village women giggled in reply. England groaned. _Don't tell me he's a lady's man…_ Was the American part French or something?

"England?" US stared at the shorter nation. "Is something wrong?" He looked at the glaring owner that was sitting between them.

"I was not able to pay for our supplies." England admitted. "I do not have the correct money." His shoulders slightly slouched.

"Really?" US cocked his head to the side. He went over to the storeowner. Alfred slugged his heavy bag to the counter and took out a money bag. He dumped the bag's contents to show to the owner. "Will this be enough?"

The storeowner's eyes were fixed on the coins that were pouring out. He quickly nodded his head. He saw Alfred's blue uniform and instantly recognized him as a fellow American. "Is this a prisoner of yours?" The owner pointed to England as if the nation was a wild beast.

Alfred frowned. "No. He's with me." US stuffed all of the supplied into his bags.

The storeowner scrutinized England. "But he's the enemy!"

Alfred shook his head. "No. He's a friend."

"The war is over." US gently explained to the man as if he was speaking to a small child.

"Really now?" The owner was shocked. His eyes were slightly wet. "That's good." He seemed to have forgotten about the incident between him and the British nation.

"Was there a quarrel between you two?" Alfred asked as he looked back and forth at England and the storeowner.

"O-of course not!" The man looked alarmed at US's questions.

"Good." US looked strangely like Russia when he gave the storeowner a creepy childish smile. Black mist seemed to have been floating around the young nation. If looks could kill, the storeowner would have been in his deathbed by now. England almost thought that the American nation would kill the man on the spot with that furious expression.

The owner seemed to have picked up the uninviting aura from US and excused himself.

"Excuse me," The old man stood up. "I must go tell Susan. She will be pleased." He left the counter table to find his wife.

England only gazed lazily at the rude man.

* * *

"Thanks for covering me." England thanked US.

"Didn't I tell you?" US returned back to his sunshine smile. "We're friends."

"I guess we are." England quietly admitted.

The two nations have purchased their necessities and were walking towards the shelter where their fellow soldiers were resting. US easily carried all of the bags, which may have weighed more than a normal human being could manage. The young man was so strong. It was enough to lower one's self-esteem.

"Where is the next route?" The English nation asked as they passed by several townspeople.

"The town is east from here. We should be fine for a few more days." US looked to the side. He too seemed to have notice the gawking villagers.

They were being watched. England felt their eyes trace through him to the core of his soul. His once clean uniform was no longer the bright scarlet color it was before, but the attire still stuck out of the crowd of American soldiers like a sore thumb. He could have easily played the part of a prisoner of war. England moved closer to US's side, towards the center of the crowd.

"Hey!"

England kept walking forward.

"Hey!"

Was someone calling after him?

A person tapped hardly on England's back. He looked behind his shoulder. It was a boy. The child had curly red hair with dark hazel eyes staring from behind a tuff of bangs. He must be Scottish.

The child growled. "Hey! Didn't I call you?" His voice was surprising dark and menacing. It didn't fit him.

"I suppose you did." England said. "Is something the matter?"

The boy ignored him. "What do you think you're doing in our village? How many babies are you planning to kill tonight?" He sarcastically mocked the Brit. He flung a rough edged stone at England.

England did not feel the need to start a fight against a weaker person. The English soldier did not bother to dodge the boy's attack. The rock scratched against his right shoulder blade and a sharp pang reached through his nervous cells. England mindlessly traced his index finger in the spot where the rock had inflicted him; he stared at the red sticky substance covering his finger. England was surprised to see blood tickling out. Did the boy hit him that hard?

"I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused for you." He felt like he was apologizing to the whole nation when he talking to the child.

The boy spitted out, "Don't say sorry to me! Say sorry to them too!" He pointed to the group of boys behind him. When have they come? Where have they come from? Was England that unaware of his surroundings? He was being to lose his edge. All of them looked to be about in the late preteens. Many of them wore big clothes that looked like they have yet to grow into them.

England was confused. "What did I do?" He didn't remember ever meeting any of them before. He never remembered entering this village at all!

"Don't act dumb!" One of the children shouted. "My dad's in war because of you!" The child clawed his thick fingernails into England's flesh. England flinched from the pain. The child's nails were quite sharp.

"So was mine!" Another cried. The other children were beginning to close in; they began to gather around England. None of the villagers have decided to stop the fight.

Wait, did they know what he was? England's was shaken by their accusation.

"They killed my baby!" A housewife pointed at England from the back of the gather crowd. England heard a chorus of agreements with the children and an orchestra of similar cries.

"It's because of those Brits that my big brother is dead!" This time, it was the redhead who was accusing the English nation. This time, he decided to kick England in the groin. The nation cried in pain. The little bugger could sure kick. England fell down to his knees.

"I'm sorry." England apologized. "I'm sorry." He wasn't too sure who he was saying sorry to anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm sorryI'-"

"ARTHUR?" Someone was fighting their way through the thick crowd. "ARTHUR!" England felt the person push his way in. The stranger's thick arms bend around England's waist. Alfred? Or was it Johnson? Their voices sound the same too.

_Alfred is gone_, a small voice reminded the British man. England closed his eyes. He didn't want to see more.

"Arthur!" US hugged England. He smelt the young man's cool breath. Peppermint?

"Stop bullying him!" He heard the American yell at the crowd. "Is this how you treat your guests?" There was lots of whispering from the crowd.

"He's a redcoat!" Someone shouted.

"What are you, a Tory?" A woman sneered at them.

Alfred calmly replied. "I am not a Tory. I am just a mere American soldier passing by." England slowly opened his eyes. US gave a cold look to the villagers. The American soldier had no mercy of those who dare harm his loved ones.

"Liar!" England heard one of the villagers shriek.

"Listen to me!" US demanded. "Listen to my words!"

"I can't believe they let traitors like you are allowed to enroll into the army!"

Alfred stiffly told them. "I am not a traitor."

"I don't believe you."

"How do we know if that is a fact?"

"It's true!" Everyone looked toward the new speaker. It was the storeowner from earlier.

The wide man turned plume red when the crowd stared at him. He attempted to cough as an excuse to destroy the sudden silence from the villagers. His statement was clearly unusual and unexpected. "The war is over."

"What? That's impossible!" An elderly woman exclaimed.

"Really?" A pregnant woman was surprised. "We won?"

"We won." US quietly stated.

"So we did win the war." They were in awe.

"God was on our side." Someone confidently declared.

"They are just passing by. Let them go." The storeowner commanded. England suddenly felt his feelings change about the storeowner from before. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

At first, the crowd didn't move. Many stuck around in hopes of seeing more action. Eventually, the whole village was back into their daily routines and chores. It was over. There was nothing more to see. In less than ten minutes, the village was back into its peaceful atmosphere, as if nothing had happened at all. The only person that was still with England was the redheaded boy, who was still glaring at him with dislike.

"Well?" US raised his eyebrow at the child. "Any words you would like to say?" He was waiting for a proper apology.

The boy broke out in squeaks and clutters of unintelligent murmurs.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear that the first time." Alfred's face was still kind with patience.

"I said 'm sorry!" The child angrily spitted out the words.

"See?" US patted the boy on the head. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He didn't notice the child's glower.

Alfred turned to England. "We need to get to the campsite. You need to get bandaged."

"It's not that bad." England rubbed the sore spot. "It's just a little bit of blood." It could have been worse. He thought of the one time when that young man 'accidently' poured tea all over his arm. The older nation had dealt with worse from America's people before.

"Either way, we need to return to the site." US told him. "Can you stand up?" US asked his former brother.

The English nation reluctantly stood up; his legs felt weak and wobbly when he got on his two feet. "I can manage." He hoarsely replied.

"Let me help you." Alfred supported England's arm.

"Thank you, Alfred." England whispered.

"I told you." US repeated once more. "I'm not Alfred."

"Johnson…" England cried.

"It's okay, England." Alfred told him; he carefully helped the Brit stand up. "You don't have to suffer anymore."

England closed his eyes.

* * *

_**^flashback^**_

"_America!" His voice called out. "Supper is ready!" _

_A small ball of yellow jumped at the man. "England!" The child hugged his guardian. "The food is done?" He happily looked up at England. _

_England smiled, "It's ready. I know you have been missed my cooking, so I decided to make the meals for today. You like me cooking, right?" _

_America stopped hugging his brother to stare at the small bowl of soup before him; he poked the unknown contents with the edge of his spoon. He wore a concern look on his childish face. _

_England noticed Alfred's forlorn expression. "Is there something wrong, Alfred?" Did the boy hurt himself in the woods? The nation told him not to wonder off to far from the house!_

"_Have you seen George?" America asked. _

"_America?" England was worried. Who was George? _

"_George has gone missing!" America cried. "Have you seen him?"_

"_George?" England repeated. _

"_England?" Alfred's voice cracked. "Where's George?" _

_The Brit stared at the dinner already made. He didn't look at America. _

"_England?" America's voice grew unstable. "England!" He dropped his bowl on the floor. _

_The child cried. _

_**^end flashback^**_

_**

* * *

**_

***past***

"This tastes good!" US exclaimed as he happily ate his meal.

England didn't say anything in response.

"England, are you sure you're alright?" The American once again asked the empire. He checked the Englishman's pulse to see if the older nation was all right. Was England panicking?

"Johnson, I'm in good health." England insisted for the umpteenth time. "It's just a little bit of blood."

US looked at him skeptically. "A little bit of blood." The American tried to ask him again. "England, you should rest."

"I'm fine!" The Brit told him. "Let me be! Honestly."

"If you say so," Alfred never let the man out of his sight.

"I'm glad you liked your meal." England tried to smile for the sake of the blond. "It's been awhile since I cooked for someone besides myself." US caught the man's eyes looking at the distance.

"You cooked this?" Alfred asked. It has only been a few weeks since he got to eat any of England's food.

"Do you like it?" England asked. "It was a little bit hard to catch the bugger though. They hop so quickly…" The England man went on.

_Hop?_ The American's mind froze. Alfred frowned. He started to feel uncomfortable; his throat suddenly felt dry.

"I…" US suddenly felt wary; memories begin to afloat. The voices were as clear as a church bell.

_Do you like my food?_

_England? Is it what delicious taste like?_

_O-of course it's delicious! What else would it be?_

_Oh, I see. So this is delicious! _

_England!_

_America… _

"Johnson?" England knocked the man out of his flashbacks. "Are you sick?"

"England," US cautiously approached the Brit. "What am I eating?" He stared at the meat he had in his hand. He stared at the fat that was tickling down the light meat. Alfred felt like he was going to throw up.

"Johnson?" England stared. "You don't recognize what this is?" _Surely…_

"I…" Alfred groaned. What was this nauseous feeling he had in his stomach? US suddenly felt like he was feasting on a corpse of a dead person.

_Don't tell me_… US's thoughts couldn't complete the idea.

"This is rabbit." The English told him. He watched the American's eyes widen in horror.

"Rabbit?" US asked himself. The younger nation's face turned into a sickly shade of green.

"Johnson?" England looked at him. "You're not fond of rabbit?" The empire felt goose bumps arise on his skin.

"I'm sorry," US apologized. "Can you excuse me for a moment?" His cheeks were now bulging out from the overwhelming pressure of throwing up something. The American soldier excused himself to the side of the campsite. England heard the young man vomit out the food in the distance.

_**^flashback^**_

"_I hate you, England!" The boy cried as he slammed the bowl onto the floor. "I hate you!"_

"_America!" England called back. "Don't act like a child! Don't throw your food like that!"_

"_How could you do this to me?" America gushed out tears. "How could you do this to me? I thought you know!"_

"_America…" England felt the guilt. "I thought you said you liked my cooking. Didn't you?" _

_The boy grinded his teeth. "I lied." America spitted out the words. He stared at the cracked bowl on the floor. He was disgusted. He felt sick. _

_What? England thought. "What?" _

"_I don't like you food." Alfred whispered. "I never liked your food." He watched his brother's face go into shock. "I was lying." _

"_Please," England begged. "This isn't what it looks like." _

_Alfred ignored his guardian's begging and tried to tone down his anger by a small degree. "I only pretended to like your food." He tried to lower his temper, but found no success. "Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry England. I hate your cooking."_

_The colony stared at the bubbling stew England was serving. The soup was a sickly color. "You forgot that I don't eat rabbit." The boy turned around to hide his tears. _

_**^end flashback^**_

England stared at the American man who had disappeared awhile ago. The goose bumps refused to settle down back into his skin.

Alfred?

* * *

"I'm sorry for my rudeness." US apologized again. "My body has never reacted that well with certain meat."

"No need to say sorry." England told him. "You're not the only person I know who does not eat rabbit."

"For my insolence," The young nation said. "I'll cook the next meal for us."

"There's no need to do that." England told US. "It is not your fault for what happened earlier."

"Please." Alfred insisted. "Please. I only want to make us even." England turned away. Alfred didn't like to eat rabbit either. _Alfred? Is that you?_ England wondered.

"England," The American was quick to switch to a new topic. England was sad that as soon as they were away from human company, the American switched to referring to him as England again. "I'm going to go change my clothes."

"I can wait," England replied. "Take your time." He watched US run to the tent to go change.

England stared at the night sky. It was getting dark again and the bright flawless moon was shining in the sky like a pale porcelain platter. It was a magical night. Small white clouds wondered aimlessly in the night sky, resting in dreamland without a single worry in sight. Fireflies pranced around the peaceful field in a synchronized formation, reminding the Brit of his fairy friends that inhabited his home in England. The owls wisely hooted to another in their own language, whispering a few secrets to those who would stop to listen. The nightingale chicks chirped in imitation to their parents, trying to learn the gentle song that their parents and their parents' parents have passed on for several generations to come. Several moon flowers blossomed underneath the moonlight, opening to the unseeing eyes of the heavens.

The British man stopped looking at the sky to gaze at his bandages. That's right! England realized. He needed to go to the tents to change one of his bandages. It wasn't a wound from the village, but it was one from one of the battles he had fought earlier. England rushed to tents ahead of him.

* * *

Alfred stared at his scars. Small lines were slashed all over his body, marking each line with a line crust of jagged skin and black dry blood. The only thing that was protecting the wound from the forces of nature was a sole piece of cloth wrapped around the area of his body that was damaged. All nations have had their fair share of blood and violence, but for a young nation, US seemed to have more than he should have. He was only several centuries years old, but was not as old as the other nations, such as England.

The American traced his finger on his back; his body was like the map of America's history. The scar he felt was from the American Civil War. The Battle of Gettysburg. 1863. On his chest was a small burn from the burning of the original White House during the War of 1812 against Mattie. On his arm was the Battle of Saratoga. 1777. The blond felt the lines tattooed to his skin, connecting in an eerie formation. Many of his old ones were still there.

Alfred found himself focused on that one wound, the gash on his side from 1783. That scar. That wound that was caused by one of England's men. He was shot in the side by one of the redcoats. How could he have not seen it coming? Back then, the American had been waiting for the hit. He knew that it would eventually come. For some reason, when he went back in time, the scar began to reform itself back into its bloody state. Was it because he was in the past again? If so, than why didn't the other scars disappeared too? Alfred thought back about the marking. It was not England's fault, US realized. He was sure that England did not see it coming himself, because the shock on the Brit's face was the last thing the American saw before he fell to the ground. Alfred could almost hear his former guardian curse at the soldier for his insolence.

The 1783 wound was still healing. When the American nation was shot, the medic made sure to remove the bullet as a top priority. US still remembered the burning pressure of the bullet pierce through his skin like a dart tearing through a sheet of tissue. It was brief, but the pain did not go away, even several days after US took the damage. A normal man would have died from the shot. Alfred however, was not a normal man. He was anything but that. He was a nation. A strong one at that. Even by the standards of his own kind, US was quite strong on his own. He had after all, have learned to manage himself when he lived in isolation (4). US's tissues were still merging together at slow pace. The wound looked like one of Jupiter's spots. It was big and red; there were remnants of skin crusting around the circle, trying its best to piece the American's wound back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"So you came after all," US spun around to see who had intruded. The American nation didn't notice that a person has entered the tent. The stranger's eyes were fixed on Alfred's scar. "It was you." The intruder spoke; he looked shaken. US could not speak.

"Alfred." The man whispered. US stared back. It was England.

England saw it.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) - One of the methods the Americans have learned during the Revolution was Guerilla fighting that was adopted from the Native American's fighting style. By hiding behind trees and rocks and attacking their foes when it is safe, the Americans have managed to win the war.

When the British fought, they often stand in neat rows. The first row would shoot and then sit down to load their guns. The second row would then stand up to shoot before sitting down to load their guns, and so on. Although the Americans may have had the advantage in this area, they were still small in number. Their weapons and uniforms were often self-supplied and the winters were harsh.

(2) – Back then, people brushed their teeth by applying salt to their teeth to protect them from turning bad. Dental was not a very safe profession as there was no medicine to stop you from feeling the pain. In fact, President George Washington nearly lost all of his teeth and had teeth made of hippopotamus ivory with gold. He wore the teeth during his inauguration, but it was lost and stolen shortly after.

(3) – There was no proper money system in America even after the revolution. For awhile, money was confusing. None of the states used the same type of money, meaning that you would have to trade and convert money whenever you enter into another state. Many presidents have struggled until the early 20th century of inventing proper money and banking system. Paper money was not used until later in the 19th century, but even then, paper money has not made its full debut until later in the early 20th century.

(4) – After the American Revolution, under President George Washington's office, America lived through isolation, or at least tried to live through isolation. George Washington felt that US's relation with France was too close, and so withdrew from the relationship. Washington felt that as a young nation, if US wanted to live and thrive, he would have to learn how to be dependent on himself and avoid getting involved in Europe's conflict. Truth to be said, US followed his advice, but fell out of it occasionally, and did not truly withdraw out of his isolation until after WWII when NATO and the other global organizations were formed.

* * *

**Notes:** Another chapter finished. So glad I'm done. Lots of stuff happens here. England now knows who US is! Oh crap!

I originally merged chapter 8 and 9 together in hopes of having one big chapter of US and England in the past, but I thought that there were too many scene changes. So in the end, I had to split the chapters in half for the shake of the story and for the shake of the readers. I think I would have killed my readers if I had this chapter and the previous one combined.

I felt guilty for torturing poor young Alfred. No wonder he hates England's cooking. I think I really overdid it this time. I'm sorry Alfred.

RS: R.I.P. George the bunny rabbit. May your soul go on to heaven to watch over Alfred. You will always be remembered. Amen.

US: George! TT_TT

RS: There, there. –pats Alfred- It' okay! I feel your pain.

US: You're the one who wrote this story! It's your fault!

RS: I know. TT_TT

US: I hate you so much. –continues to cry-

RS: I wonder if this is the guilt J.K. Rowling felt when she killed Hedwig (Harry Potter's owl). :'(

* * *

**Please continue to read and review my story. Please tell me what you think of the chapter and how you felt and reacted to the events of the chapter. I hope you enjoyed this story so far. Don't worry, I will go back to the present soon enough. **


	10. Chapter 10: Wonder

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 10: Wonder**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Himaruya does. Not even 4kids can get their hands on it.

* * *

***past***

"That scar…" He gazed at the noticeable mark. "It was you." His voice was clearly shaken. "Alfred."

Alfred did not speak.

"Comb your hair." England commanded. He had to see more to believe what he had just witnessed.

US stared at the older man.

"Well?" The Brit waited. "Did you not hear me? Comb that mess!" His wild eyes flared at the American. "Your hair looks like rubbish." England threw something to the former colony.

Alfred caught the object flung at his direction. It was a comb. It was simple, but practical. The smooth wooden teeth were unusually sharp. Realizing that the older nation would not leave him alone until his demands were to be followed, US did as he was told and begun to fix his hair. England kept his eyes on US the whole time. It took quite awhile the tame the stubborn hairs; they were very determined to stay up. The water and sweat has been acting as a natural hair gel to hold the American's hair up like a porcupine's quills. It took Alfred lots of effort to keep his image from becoming noticed by England. Alfred did not cry out in pain when he pulled his roots were tugged too hard when he ran the comb through knots and split ends. He neatly arranged his hair with great patience, giving himself time to allow himself to finish his task. Eventually, the tangled mess was finally laid flat down into the familiar neat boyish hair that made US so recognizable. The only hair that was left standing was the sole cowlick that US so proudly claimed as Nantucket.

"It was you all along." England bitterly spat out the words when Alfred finally finished the process. He looked at US's greasy hair with disgust. The English nation wore a thin smile. It was a bitter smile.

US gave England a sad look. This time, he did not bother to cover himself up. What was the use? England has seen enough. There were only so many times that the American could slip through. This time, it was different. He had seen too much. Alfred was caught. He was not Johnson. There was never a colony or state named Andrew Johnson. It was a paper thin disguise.

"Why?" England asked himself. "Why?" He cursed. Fuck. That man. The man who called himself Johnson. Johnson did not exist. Johnson was Alfred. He was his former colony. Did he take England for a fool? England couldn't believe that he had been so gullible. So many times had the Englishman accused US of being Alfred. Yet, England believed US when the American told him otherwise. What a fool England was.

"England," US tried to find the right words. "I can explain,"

"Explain what?" England snapped; his bright eyes flickered angrily at the American. "That you enjoyed watching me cry? That you enjoyed watching me suffer because of you?" The empire accused the young man. "After all those times of pretending to like me… You're despicable." His words bit.

"England, please." Alfred began to beg. "Let me explain."

"That's enough, Alfred." England stopped him from proceeding further. "I do not wish to hear more." The empire was sick of being involved with America. Why couldn't Alfred just leave him alone? He won his independence, didn't he? Couldn't the young nation just let the empire have peace? England had enough of seeing him. The England nation started to turn away towards the opposite direction where the two nations were standing.

"England!" Alfred cried out. "Where are you doing?"

England did not turn around to look at Alfred. "I going."

"Going where?" US asked.

"Away." He looked so distant when he said the words. "Away from you." He stressed on the last three words with venom.

"You can't leave!" US tried to block the nation's path with his wide arms. "It's late!"

"America," England's cold eyes were fixed on US's shocked eyes. "Stay out of my sight. You're in the way."

"England?"

"Good evening." The empire walked around the American before he ran off into the woods.

Alfred stared numbly at his former brother who had just run off into the unknown. England? England has left. He hated Alfred. England? The American felt weak in the knees. It was all his fault… Shit. It was all his fault. Why? Why did this have to happen? He was actually in good terms with England too. Until…until the English empire found out who he was. Did the other England felt like that too? Was that the older England's feelings of Alfred? Were all of those sweet words and compliments lies? Why? Why must US always hurt those around him? Was he, US, just a monster who would always harm those who would dare interfere with him? Was he just a mass of land that was meant to be isolated?

"I'm so sorry, England." US softly cried. His vision blurred when he stared at the sky. He had never felt so lonely or rejected in his life. "I'm so sorry…" The young nation cried himself into sleep as the night flew by. Even in sleep, tears still dripped down the American's cheeks.

* * *

England did not look back when he ran into the woods. He could not stand to look back. He did not want to see Alfred. He was afraid that if he were to do so, he might break into tears again. The empire felt cheated. He felt like a fool for believing in the American's lies. England felt embarrassment flood into his mind. He had told Alfred of his feelings. Alfred knew how England regretted the revolution. He knew the English man's attachments and love for the former colony. England had told him too much. It was enough to have anger the older nation.

England's mind briefly flickered to the thought of Alfred's wound. He flinched at the sight of the scar. It was clearly the marking of a bullet. The wound was partially healed, but it was certainly not fully recovered. The empire's guilt plundered. It was all his fault. It was England's fault that the prat was hurt. It was one of the redcoats fault. He did not know who the man was, but the empire was more determined than ever to find the traitor.

The English nation wondered why Alfred bothered to hide his identity. What was the point? What would the former colony gain from that? It didn't seem likely for the American to go by as a spy. If the American was a spy, he would have disguised himself as a British soldier if enemy information was desired. Besides, England saw Alfred when he before he was shot. Alfred did not undergo as a different person back then. That must have meant that Alfred changed his identity shortly after the incident. Could it be that Alfred had pretended to be Johnson the moment the American meant England? But why?

England frowned. America had occupied all of England's thoughts at the moment. It was annoying. It was an emotion between annoyance and regret. He just didn't like to be lied to. It felt like the liar had no faith in England. It made England feel like America had a reason to lie to him. It made him feel like he, England, was the bad guy. The villain. It was the same feeling the Brit had when he received Alfred's pesky Declaration of Independence with all of the young man's demands and complaints. The English gentleman stared at the skies. He wondered if Alfred was looking at the same sky as he was. He drifted into a sleep as his mind continued to involuntarily wonder about Alfred's well-being.

* * *

The next day, England wondered around aimlessly in the woods. He had no idea of what to do next. He was initially planning to head to the nearest harbor along with his own men, but he has now left them because of his selfish emotions. The Englishman toyed around with his options as he gazed at the grass. His bright eyes had reserved to a darker tone today. The empire did not know where to go. He did not know which direction to face. He should have headed back to the campsite, but that meant that he would have to face with Alfred again.

"What should I do?" England groaned to himself. So many times have the blond empire asked himself that simple question. "Stupid Alfred," He cried again. "Are you satisfied now?" The empire hollered to the heavens. "Are you happy now that I'm suffering?"

"Seeing you cry does not make me happy." A voice gently nudged England.

England glared at the side. "Alfred?" He quickly jerked away from the American. "What are you doing here? Get away from me!"

"I found you here." US softly replied. "I was looking for you."

"Have I not told you to let me be?" England angrily asked.

"I couldn't leave you alone." Alfred told him. "I couldn't bear to watch you wonder around the woods by yourself." He looked at England with a sad smile.

The Brit didn't smile back.

"I know how much you hate me," Alfred went on. "But I would like you to just listen to my side." He felt England's eyes focus on him. "Please give me a chance!"

US took England's silence and not running away as a yes.

"I know how much you hate me because of the revolution." Alfred tried to explain. "I'm sorry."

"If you know how much I hate you," The empire was still angry. "Then why do you keep asking me questions about the war?"

"I'll tell you why if you allow me to finish my explanation." US patiently said.

US gave a soft sigh. "I realized how much pain I have caused. I only wanted to break away from you because I felt that I had no freedom. I felt that you were too controlling. I never felt that your Parliament had treated me fairly as a citizen of your own. I was more of a tool than an actual part of your people." It was like listening to the man recite the Declaration of Independence all over again, except that the words were abridged and went straight to the point.

England has already heard of these reasons. He waited for more.

"I ask that you forgive me for harming you. I had no intention of hurting you from the start."

When US finished his short speech, England frowned. He could have just asked England to forgive him. No need for formalities. "I have raised you since I have found you as a child." He knew that US have already known this. "I have seen you as a little brother and I have treated you as one as far as I could have remembered. The Revolutionary War has caused more hurt for me than you would have known."

US felt that the English nation was starting to stray away from his point. "Your break from the British Empire has caused me grief and I cannot say that I can entirely forgive you for your fight of independence. However, despite the confusion of why you have lied to me, I will allow myself to listen to your reasons of why you have called yourself Johnson. Until then, I cannot fully forgive you for your acts." (1)

"All right, England." Alfred returned to his normal talking style. He felt that both he and England were being too formal. Why so serious? "I will tell you why I lied, or for all that matter, why I'm here."

US closed his eyes before opening them again. "I was afraid of seeing you."

What? "I beg your pardon?" England didn't see it coming. Alfred was afraid of seeing him?

"I was afraid of being rejected by you." US whispered. "I kept asking you questions about the war, because I wanted to know if you still love me. You must have hated me so much for leaving you like that." He closed his eyes again. "You were always so lonely…"

Alfred's reasons caught the empire off guard. The young man's reasons sounded so childish. So asinine. "I-is that all?" England was clearly surprised.

"That's all?" US echoed. "Stop acting like it's nothing."

"I thought you were just here to laugh at my failure." England looked like he was going to faint. "I thought you were just here to rub it in my face for losing against a colony."

"England," Alfred told him. "It wasn't just me you had to go against." He wrapped his big arms around the older man. "You had to fight against France too."

"That wino-bastard," US heard the Brit curse, although the empire turned pink when he realized that Alfred was hugging him.

"Anyway," US tried to return back to the topic; he quickly released England from his embracement. "I'm sorry for what I have made you gone through. I'm really grateful that you cared for me when I was a child, and I thank you for that."

"Y-your welcome." England looked pleased. "I'm glad I found you." The English nation was blushing again. The American man gave his former brother a small smile.

"But…" England pondered. "You're Alfred. But at the same time, you're not really Alfred are you?" His finger wobbled when he pointed at US.

Alfred blinked. Did England figured it out? How did England know?

"You have the same wound that Alfred had," England continued. "But there were also other scars I have never seen." His finger hovered over US's back, tracing an imaginary line on one of the American's scars that could not be seen through the American's clothes.

"You saw them?" US gave England a wary expression.

"Yes." England said before noting. "Your personalities are also different, you two smell differently too…" England blushed when he realized that he had told US that the American had a different scent.

"England?" Alfred was amazed of the older nation's observations. The Englishman was sharp.

The empire attempted to brush off the last embarrassing comment. "But that aura…" He trailed off. "It's the same. It's linked to magic, but you never believe in it, did you?"

"No, I believe you." Alfred really did believe him. He had spent too much time with present day England to really deny the existence of magic anymore. He had gone through too many experiences with the English gentleman. Like that one time when the Brit turned into a drunk angel, but that was not the point.

"You're right," Alfred said. "I'm not Alfred."

England stared at US as if the younger nation had told the empire that the world was dominated by flying mint bunnies (2).

"I am Alfred." The young nation tried to explain. "But I am a different Alfred."

"I don't quite follow you." The gentleman was confused.

"England," England looked up. US's azure eyes were glued to England's clover eyes. "I am the United States of America. I am from the future."

England frowned at Alfred. "Alfred? Are you alright?" He looked at US for any sign of madness.

"England, I'm fine." Alfred told him.

"Are you sure?" The empire didn't sound like he believed Alfred. "The future?"

"Is that too hard to believe?" US asked. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"No, I'll pass." England looked alarmed. "I don't want to know." He was not willing to risk a change in history. "I already saw those scars. I don't need to see more." The American seemed to have acquired many scars. How many years has it been?

Alfred didn't seem to hear the Brit. England still looked unsure. "Mattie will move out, France goes through hell, Russia will start snowing red, and you will become dirtier. (3)" US listed out some of the future events.

"That's enough, Alfred," England didn't want to hear more.

"Are you sure, England?" Alfred asked.

"I'm positive." He ensured the younger man. The Brit was puzzled by what US meant by the empire getting 'dirtier'. The American's description of the future sounded so vague and bloody. "By the sound of your name, it sounds like those prats have decided to unite (4) under you after all." England was referring to the colonies who would eventually become the states.

"Ha," US laughed. "Do you remember them?"

"How can I not?" England asked. "Your girl, Massachusetts has truly got her stubbornness from you." When the Brit looked back into the Boston Tea Party incident, it oddly became almost humorous, probably because he was talking about it with Alfred. The empire remembered how enraged he was when he found the Boston harbor to have been full of tea.

"I suppose so." Alfred smiled like the proud father he was. He quietly added. "Sorry for that." He remembered of his not so little girl dressed up as an Indian when she fearlessly dumped tea into the harbor. Boy, was England pissed when he found out. The other colonies were kind enough to pitch in and donate supplies to the pigheaded girl when England blockaded her.

"I won't think about it right now." England told Alfred when the Brit caught the American's fearful expression. "How are you planning to get back into your time?" He asked Alfred.

"I'm not too sure myself," Alfred admitted. "I was kind of hoping that you would know how to get back in time, since you know about magic and all."

"Alfred," The empire sounded wary. US was not the first person to have ask such a question of time traveling. The American would certainly not be the last one either. "You can't time travel." He tried to explain to the young nation. "Time traveling is a taboo among magic users. It's forbidden. No one has ever survived their attempts of doing so."

"Is that so?" US asked. "Huh. Well, shit." He walked around. "This is going to be tough."

"We should head back." England reminded US. "I'm sure our men are probably wondering where we are."

"Right." US forgot. "Are you coming with me?"

England smiled. "Of course." He looked at Alfred again. "Are you still concern about getting back home?"

US grimaced. "I'll manage. There has to be a reason or way to why or how I got here." He gazed at England. "I'll find a way back. I will."

"Perhaps I can help in some way." The Brit offered his assistance.

"Sure!" Alfred beamed. "All right!" US threw his fist in the air. "Let's go!" He dragged England back to the campsite.

"Let go of me!" England cried. "I can walk on my own!" He was flustered by the American's amazing strength. He could not help but wonder if it was possible for Alfred to return by to the future. Was the American really from the future?

* * *

**~present~**

The room was dark. It was as black as a raven. It was pitch black, not a single object could be outlined in the darkness. The only object seen in the room was a digital alarm clock that was laid on the bedside table. It was one of the clocks that only cost less than ten dollars and could easily be replaced. Green neon light glowed in the dark, eerily radiating the time, 4:59 AM.

3…2…1…

The numbers clicked to 5:00 AM.

**BEEP BEEP BEEP **

**BEEP BEEP BEEP **

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

The clock continuously sounded off its alarms.

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

**BEEP BEEP B- **

The sound of the machine was abruptly interrupted by a sharp heavy clank. Nuts and wires flew out, scattering onto the hard oak wood floor. There was a light frizzle from the copper wires. The poor clock wheezed out in its last moment of its short life before shutting down completely. Pieces of the fine machinery fell to the ground in a dull thump.

"Ugh…" He softly moaned. His left arm was covering his eyes. He didn't want to wake up. Not now. He was so tired… He just wanted to close his eyes again… He went to bed at two last night… When was the last time the teenager had proper sleep?

New York looked at the side of his bed. Five o'clock already? It felt like he had so little time to rest. The state slowly sat up. His eyes were still weary from last night's work. After sorting out of all of America's papers, Albert had to look at his own papers too. New York had to deal with his state problems too.

Albert felt a slight pain in his fist. The New Yorker looked at his left hand. Red blood oozed out. He glanced at the now broken alarm clock beside him. Its numbers were no longer glowing. _Crap._ He absentmindedly cursed to himself. The teen seemed more concern about the clock rather than his bloody hand. The New Yorker had destroyed another clock, and this one was not even a month old. Virginia gave it to him too. The state distantly remembered his sister's threat of beating the crap out of him if he were to dare destroy another clock before it was a year old. Oh well, he could always try to fix it, he glared at the machine. Some of the wires looked like they were replaceable. _Although Virginia might notice the changes…_ New York gloomily thought. Since Virginia had lost her status as the most economic state, she has been putting down her anger in Maryland. And New York. Sometimes New York when she got the chance, but mostly Maryland. Mainly because Maryland was like her next door neighbor (If you joke to her that Washington D.C. was the result of Maryland and Virginia, Virginia would kindly beat the crap out of you). Why did his older sister always have to act like she was PSMing? How troublesome…

New York went to the bathroom to wash his injured hand. He lazily watched the blood flow down the drain. Once he was sure that the wound was properly cleaned with alcohol, the state found a packet of bandages to wrap his hand with. For the first time in days, Albert looked at the mirror. His blue eyes blinked at his reflection. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess; it all tangled up in knots. The teen's face was white and pale from days of avoiding the sunlight. With haste, the New Yorker combed his wavy hair with struggle. Albert was glad that Alfred was not there to see the horrid condition the state was in. He hoped that his physical changes wouldn't stay permanent.

_Time to go back to those papers_, New York dully thought.

He had done a little bit of research in his spare time, but much to his disappointment, the state's lack of knowledge in magic has taken him nowhere. He was not England, the nation who had lived in eras that believed in magic, and has had centuries to perfect his skills. Albert was frustrated. Many of the books and websites on magic were labeled as fiction. Those that were not were very vague on their subjects and were incomprehensible. None of them had absolute resources. Time traveling was not even supposed to be possible, according to some resources. Others have just left the subject alone while others pretended that it was possible, only to have a requirements that seemed illogical and impossible, like a koi's hind leg or a rooster's wisdom teeth.

New York went to his desk to file his papers that were to be turned in later that week. The tempered glass top of the furniture had an ellipse shape and had stainless steel legs to support its weight. The green swivel chair was slid beside the window, as if the inhabitant of said room was too tired to bother pushing in the chair before going to sleep. Besides a desk lamp and a few random scraps of paper lied a laptop. Its screen was dimly radiating blue, as it was in hibernating.

Albert grabbed the chair to sit in. Pieces of paper flew from the big stack of paper that was waiting for him to respond to. The state grumbled at the mess as he began to arrange his lamp into the right side of the desk. He took a Kleenex tissue to wipe some grease off the lid of his laptop. His trash bin needed to be emptied, he needed to restock his refrigerator, his clothes were still waiting to be folded and he needed to get his suit from the washer before another meeting with his boss.

New York was irritated of how messy his apartment was at the moment. He was normally the organized one, but recent events had given him less time to fuss over the order of his lovely home. It has been days since the New Yorker has had the chance to take a shower without interruptions of a phone call or of an emergency call of some kind. A disorganized life equals an extremely irritated New York.

The paperwork was always asking the same thing. How much should we spend on sewage? How much are we to pay this month for taxes? Should there be gay rights? Should the government have more power than the people? The questions seemed endless. All were debatable. None of them ceased to be settled down with one answer.

Next to New York's stack of papers where America's papers, which were even bigger and longer than Albert's. Most of them were related to money, like how much money has Alfred spent on Mickey D's this month, how much he had to pay for the electricity, etc. However, one paper caught Albert's eyes. Unlike the other documents, the paper was thin. Very few words were printed on it. The teenager rubbed his temples.

Albert stated at the paper. "What is this?" He slipped his glasses on to take a closer look. It was a receipt. The date of the receipt was from nearly two months ago. Albert mindlessly began to shuffle his paperwork into a neat stack. His eyelids rapidly flickered at the words stretched across the paper.

At the bottom of the paper was someone's messy writing. It was sloppy and hard to read, but the message was loud and clear:

_Make sure you take these once a day. _

It wasn't a receipt.

It was a prescription.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) - I can't believe that I had both England and US talk so much in one breath. It feels like they didn't get to their point until the last few sentences, didn't they? So formal. If I gave you an eyesore for that, apologies for you.

(2) – Flying mint bunny. Pff~ I just had to dump that in.

(3) - Canada gains his own constitution in 1867; he officially becomes a nation in the 1982.

After assisting America in the revolution, France goes through a revolution of his own that lead to many wars and deaths. A terrible time to be living in France.

Russia becomes a communist country after WWI, after a very violent revolution of killing the royal Tsar/Czar and his family along with many other citizens. Russia's revolution was perhaps the bloodiest revolution in European history.

England begins to become more dependent on machinery during the Industrial Revolution, even before the American Revolution started. The increasing use of machinery led to England gaining higher levels of pollution, corrupting many cities with filth and crime. Alfred's wording has a double meaning, as this may also refer to England spreading his influence throughout the globe during the Imperialism Era, committing many crimes and violent deeds to gain his goals and desires of global domination.

(4) **- ** The colonies were not necessarily united from the start. Each state had its own rules, way of governing, money system, etc. The desire to break away from England was perhaps the only reason why they united. Even after the war, there were constant fights over how much power the central government could have over the states, how the money system should work, and many other numerous factors in governing the United States. It was truly chaotic.

* * *

**Notes: **Lots of things happen again in this chapter. So, England finds out who US is and New York finds a prescription! What could it be? I thought this chapter was pretty good. I have been getting impatient and I have been waiting to type this part of the story for such a long time. Now both of the Englands from the past and present know who the Americas are. Things are going to definitely get more interesting from this turning point. I'm just going to sit at my computer and watch you guys impatiently wait and try and predict what will happen next, because that's how I roll. I love watching you guys get tense for the story. Man, I'm so sadistic sometimes.

RS: What an emotional chapter! It's enough to make me explode from the overwhelming events!

US: -sigh- Are we done yet?

RS: Not yet. If my calculations are right...

US: You always change your calculations,

RS: Be quiet. If they're right. We should be about half way through with the story.

US: What? What a long ass story. -_-;

RS: I actually have no idea how long this story may turn out to be. –sweatdrops-

US: You keep making small scenes too long, which are probably why you always have to split your big chapters into smaller ones, making this story have more chapters for that reason.

RS: -gloom- Can't guys at least pretend to have some enthusiasm for my story?

UK: Oh joy. Another USUK fanfic.

RS: Stop being sarcastic! You're making my fanfics sound like it's the worse one ever written! -cries-

US: Don't cry. I still have faith in you! –hugs RS- (A hero always hugs a maiden in mourning!)

UK: Why are you hugging her now? Didn't you just complained about her story? -jealous-

US: ^_^ -is happy to see a jealous UK-

RS: -groans- Run that R&R propaganda crap. –thinks- _Does US just like to hug me to make UK jealous? I feel like I'm being used by anime characters…_

_

* * *

_

**Tell me how you felt and how you reacted when you read this chapter. Please? I like to see your thoughts of what I have written. It gets a bit sad when I see so many clicks on the story, but so little reviews. Surely England's discovery of who Alfred is will spark some reviews, right? **


	11. Chapter 11: Envy

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 11: Envy**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia in any shape or form. I don't want to meet Himaruya's lawyer! Lawyers are not fun to talk to! TT_TT

* * *

**~present~**

"I can't believe that US still does that!" America exclaimed after he listened to one of England's stories. America was referring to US's habit of going to bed with England because of the 'scary moving pictures'. The boy's curiosity of his future self had forced England to choke out US's doings and behavior.

England chuckled. "You were always a bit of a coward when it came to fiction." He had such a nice laugh. America could listen to the English nation laugh and smile all day long.

"Hey!" America protested. "I'm not that scared! I'm the hero after all!" He pouted. "Heroes don't get scared easily!"

"Okay, okay." England smiled. "I believe you." He was just happy to see America in such a good mood.

"Thanks for taking me here!" The American boy thanked the English man. After spending days at the library, England decided that lad needed to get some fresh air and see the real world. With generosity, England took America to the mall. The place was crowded with people of all different nationalities. It was almost like a world meeting, but not as chaotic.

"This is the mall! Do you like it?" The English nation asked Alfred.

"Uh huh." Alfred replied. "There are so many people here!" He was unsure of where to start; there were so many stores to choose from!

"Maybe we should go shop for some clothes." England told Alfred. "I don't think you would like to keep wearing my clothes."

"I don't mind wearing your clothes," Alfred blushed. Alfred was wearing England's favorite green vest with a collar shirt underneath it. He was wearing the same pair of jeans from the other day. He really didn't mind it at all. He secretly enjoyed smelling the clothes he had borrowed from the British nation. It had a nice scent.

"But still," England shook his head. "I think it's unfair for you to have to wear clothes that don't fit you. We should go look for some clothes anyway. At least enough to last a week." The English nation did not have enough clothes to supply for both him and America.

"What store should we go to?" Alfred asked. He didn't really remembered shopping much back in the colonial days. He preferred making his own clothes, for the sake of convenience and to save money. His negligence from England led him to become more stingy and conservative.

"How about this one?" America pointed to a punk store to the left side of the building. He watched England's face twitch at the American's strange chose.

"No." England face was so emotionless, it almost scared America.

"England?" America blinked. "Are you all right?"

"Let's try this store," The Brit led Alfred to another store. The store was more casual and seemed to have held all sort of attire styles.

"Wow!" Alfred was overwhelmed by all of the overproduction of the clothes. "They all look exactly the same! (1)" His eyes sparkled at wonder.

"America, do you know what size you are? Are you size L?" It looked like America was slightly England's size, but the American's figure did not perfectly fit the Englishman's clothes.

"I'm not too big and I'm not too small." Alfred said. "Isn't there someone to measure me?"

England stared. He forgot that there were no official size in clothes back then (2). "Just try on what you like and figure out what fits you." England hastily told the American boy. This was going to take some time and effort. Why must everything become so complicated?

England patiently waited for Alfred as the younger nation explored through the store. He watched America try on both the worse and the best of clothes, ranging from sloppy t-shirts to formal wear of a suit. England nearly choked with shock when he saw Alfred wear those blasted jeans that were too big for him. The pants easily slide down the American boy's legs, revealing the younger nation's boxers.

"No!" England cried. "You will not be wearing that!" America gave him a blank look. Didn't that American had any sense of fashion? Alfred was dressing like those teenage boys who were always waddling down the school hall like penguins. Very ugly penguins. Where has England gone wrong in raising that child?

In the end, America stuck to a simple wardrobe of t-shirts and jeans. He bought a big red sweatshirt to wear over his clothes. Alfred's sense of fashion seemed to have lied in the color scheme of red, white, and blue. Typical of America.

"Do these fit you?" England asked Alfred. England stared at the clothes in the bag after he purchased them.

"Yes." Alfred said. "Why?"

"No reason." The English gentleman quietly replied. "No trouble fitting into them?" England asked America again.

"No problem at all." America repeated. That was odd. When England looked at the labels in the clothes, there was no difference in size. They were US's size. Didn't America complain to the Brit that the younger American was too small to fit into US's clothes? So why did both of them wear the same size? Something was weird. It didn't make sense.

"England?" America broke into England's train of thoughts. "Let's go look at the rest of the mall!" He was very eager to do so.

England shook his head. Stop overanalyzing the situation! "Let's." The gentleman pushed a smile on his face.

"Yeah!" America pumped his fist into the air.

* * *

England was amaze of how much energy America had. After shopping for clothes, they went to explore the plaza. When they stopped at the Sanrio shop, America laughed at England when the former colony took a picture of the British nation covered with tumbling Hello Kitty plushies. Alfred nearly screamed out his lungs when he saw a crocodile pop up in the RainForest Café; England almost had to drag the boy out of the café before the boy made a big scene. When they passed by McDonalds, the British gentleman had to use all of his power to stop Alfred from clawing his way into the fast food restaurant. England was unwilling to see the America from the past become obsessive with hamburgers. At the furniture store, Alfred somehow managed to convince the British man to jump on the bed with him until the store manager chased them out with a vacuum cleaner (it's 40% off today!).

"America?" England asked the American. "Can you read the name of that shop? I can't see it because of that sign blocking the way." He tried to get a closer view of the shop as they walked towards it. America was closer to the store.

America glared at the shop. His vision was blurry; his eyes couldn't find focus onto the shop's name. He could not distinguish the difference between the e's and the o's, or the v's and the w's. M and n looked similar. Alfred blinked. "I can't read the sign." He told England. "I can't see it." He rubbed his eyes. Since when has his vision been so bad? He thought he had twenty by twenty visions.

"Do your eyes hurt?" England asked him when the Brit saw America rub his eyes.

"No, I'm fine." Alfred said. England's mind briefly thought of US's glasses, Alfred. Didn't US get them in the 1845? The Englishman remembered listening to US's rant about stealing the spectacles from Mexico's son, Texas. That was nearly half a century after the American Revolution ended.

"I guess I might have been reading too much in the dark." America admitted.

"Don't ruin your vision." England chided. Right after reading said books, America would than run into England's room because they were too scary.

"I won't." Alfred said. England wondered if America needed a pair of glasses.

The two nations were browsing though a sweets shop in the eastern side of the mall. America had his nose pressed against the glass window. The American couldn't believe how everything was overpriced. Ten dollars for a chocolate éclair? He could buy a big house for the same price! Chocolate dipped strawberries were nine dollars for five strawberries. Alfred nearly cried when he saw the price of a few cinnamon sticks to be four dollars. He could probably survive a whole month of food with four dollars (3).

"Do you want some?" England asked America when the Brit saw the American boy hungrily eat the food with his eyes. "US likes to eat these too." It turned out that Alfred had a sweet tooth. America quickly nodded his head. England dug his hands into his pocket to get his wallet and went to the cashier to pay for the cinnamon rolls.

"This is so much fun!" America chirped when he took a big bite of his roll. "Thanks England!" The former colony beamed at England. Glazed in chocolate and sugar, the cinnamon rolls were truly a treat. Alfred greedily consumed the roll in a matter of minutes. England ordered himself a small cup of tea to go along with the pastries and ate his snack at a slower pace.

"Don't eat too quickly," England reminded America. "You'll choke on it if you don't slow down."

"Aw, I won't die." America said. He was annoyed that England was such a worrisome person. It looked like the future England remained the same. "Does US eat like this too?"

"US eats the same." England told him. And perhaps even more, he wanted to say, but the Brit kept his mouth shut. "Are you done eating?" England asked America.

"Yes." America said. "You're not done." He pointed to England's plate. The Englishman had only finished drinking his tea and has only taken a few bits of the pastry.

"I'm not hungry." The Brit told Alfred. "I'll just save these for later." To be honest, England thought that the food was too sweet and it was too big. US always enjoyed ordering the supersized food, didn't he? The American's sense of size was off track from Europe's system of food size.

"Are you ready?" England stood up. "Let's go." He grabbed the brown paper bag with his food to leave.

For the past few days, all England could talk about was US. America knew that he was the one who asked England to talk about US, but it was starting to irritate the American boy. Alfred felt that it was unfair of England to put the younger nation into the comparison game. US was more cautious and America was reckless. US was strong. Alfred was not. US was older and wiser; America was just a young nation that has sprouted from a group of colonies. Was it safe to say that US was England's obsession? Or someone England just had passion for?

Deep inside, Alfred wanted to be honest and tell England that he was jealous. He was jealous of US. Yes. He was jealous of himself. Was that even possible? It sounded rather silly and absurd. How can you be jealous of yourself? Sometimes, Alfred wondered if he and US were even the same person. The difference between US and America was so great that they almost seem to be two completely different people. What did US have that America did not? Alfred thought as he walked with England.

America certainly couldn't see himself becoming a hero. He barely met the world. The only nation he had saved was himself and only himself. In a way, America felt that he was the selfish one. He claimed that he wanted to be a hero, but he always withdrew into isolation from the world, deep inside his shell of comfort. Alfred could never imagine himself becoming friends with anyone. There was France, but the Frenchman's personality almost scared the young nation away. If America was being honest; the boy would say that France was intimidating, especially with that king of his. France's two friends, Spain and Prussia, were just as frightening as the French nation. Especially Spain (4).

US however, according to England's description, was not just a strong nation, but a _superpower nation_. The United States of America was part of several world organizations, like NATO, the UN, and G16 just to name a few of such groups. The superpower made multiple friends, but all the same time, multiple enemies. His future self helped stop two world wars. Not like when America had to unwillingly take part of one of the older world wars, like the French and Indian War. When Alfred watched England's chest puff out in pride of the older US, America felt his cheeks turn red in anger. England liked US more than he liked America. It was so unfair. How could England do this to him? Why was life giving him so little justice?

America frowned. Was it bad to be mad at yourself?

"America?" England stopped to take a look at the blond teenager. "Are you alright there?" America looked like he was not quite there. The American's eyes were foggy and a turned into deep navy blue color.

"England?" America turned his face away from the English nation. "Had you ever given someone a kiss before?" He could not find the courage to look at England's face react to the random question. What was a kiss? Sudden flashbacks from a small piece of Alfred's memories came back into his mind. The voices of the people were so clear.

_England? What's a kiss?_

_A kiss? The English man stuttered; he wasn't expecting such a question. It's something you give to someone when you love them very much. _

_I see. Can I kiss you then?_

_U-um… _

_England? Are you okay?_

_England? _

"What?" England sounded surprised. The question sounded oddly familiar. Where had England had this conversation before? He tried to remember when. He couldn't.

"A kiss." America impatiently repeated. "A kiss."

"Sure I have." England said.

"To whom?" Alfred wanted to know.

"Why do you want to know?" The gentleman began to feel uncomfortable. England thought of US and the Brit's previous lovers before the American.

Alfred looked hurt. "I just wanted to know."

"It's getting late," England tried to change the subject. "We should be leaving now. The mall is going to close soon."

America glared at England. Was England trying to avoid him? Everything felt more quickly paced for awhile. Alfred was not ready to let England go.

"Arthur!" America called him. "Can't we just stay here for another five minutes?"

England froze. Had America just referred to him as Arthur? The former empire was shocked to hear his human name slip out of the youth's mouth. The last person who called him Arthur was US.

"Arthur…" Alfred tugged on England's shirt. He wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist. "Just stay here…" The American teen pushed the Englishman's head to tilt as he forced a kiss upon his former brother.

England however, saw what Alfred was attempting to do and quickly flung the America off with all of his strength. Luckily for the English gentleman, America has underestimated the former empire's strength and has decided to go easy on him. America probably thought that the older England has gone weaker because of his lost status as an empire. America however, has forgotten that England was also the head personification of the bloody United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. England was a world power along with US.

"Prat!" England glared at Alfred. The boy's sudden movement had caught him off guard. What was he doing? "What are you trying to do?"

Alfred stopped himself from hitting his head against the floor. He stood up to rub his head. "England, I…" America tried to stop England from protesting.

"Don't touch me!" England's eyes were wild. "Don't touch me." He watched Alfred's eyes begin to water; the Brit easily threw the guilt aside. He didn't like America's sudden pushiness. It scared him. It was out of character. Not even US was that pushy. US was more patient and calm when it came to their relationship between them. The older American nation had his occasional silly moments, but he knew what Arthur's limits were. They have been together long enough to know each other. America's sudden attempt of kissing the Brit reminded England of the lust France once had for the English nation.

"Don't you love me?" Alfred asked England.

"I love you," England said. "But not like that! I just see you as a brother!"

"But you see US as something else?" America sneered at England. "What is it between you two?"

"What do you care?" England found himself asking the same question from earlier. "You two are the same!"

"That's why I want to know why you love him more than you love me!" Alfred snapped. The youth broke into tears. Why, why, why? Why must his feelings be like this? Why should he care about how US and England's relationship? US and America were the same! They were the same. They were the same, right? Right? But they were both so different…

And why should America care about England? Or should he say, UK? Who did America like? UK or England? UK the world power was kind and understanding, but he only saw Alfred as a child and as a brother. He never took America seriously. England the empire was cold and indifferent to Alfred's break from the empire. Alfred was sure of it! After Alfred sent the Declaration of Independence to the empire, England refused to talk to him. England would only send representatives to America to make agreements. But America also remembered England when he was a child. When England still took care of America. When England still loved America. America felt lust for both of them. America loved them both. Or was it lust? He could not distinguish the difference between love and lust. The definition of the two words were so similar to each other.

When America thought of UK again, his temples wrinkled. Did this mean that UK might see US as a child too? Or was their relationship more serious then America imagined? The older Brit complained about US as much as he complimented about the older American nation. It sounded almost as though US and UK had some sort of love-hate relationship. At least that's what America thought.

"America," England sounded so wary of the child's antics. "We need to get home now." He was tired from America's assault. England felt that he had every right to categorize the youth's move as an assault. He might as well have called it one. England was unwilling to agree to America's desires.

_It was you all along... __Why? Why?_

_England...I can explain..._

_That's enough Alfred, I do not want to hear me..._

_Where are you going? You can't leave! _

_America. Stay out of my sight. You're in the way. _

_England?_

America clutched his forehead in pain. Where were all of these headaches coming from? The boy's side suddenly burned in reply to the headache. Alfred took his other hand and clutched his side; his other hand stayed on his forehead.

"America?" England stared at the younger nation. "What's wrong?" He cautiously stepped towards Alfred. "America?"

"Yeah," America dully answered. "I'm ready to go." He gloomily started to walk again.

"Are you sure?" England asked.

"Yes." Alfred replied. "I'm just tired. That's all."

"If you're tired, get some sleep. Maybe something to eat." The former empire suggested.

"I will." England was surprised that America did not reject the Brit's cooking.

"Good." England tried to keep up their short conversation. "I'll cook you something to eat tonight then. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good." Alfred quietly said. He didn't care about what he was going to eat.

"Please forget about what I said earlier." England sadly smiled at America.

America didn't say anything. America looked away from England. Even though he had won his independence, the older England still didn't see him as a man. He never referred to America as a man. England always called him a boy or a lad. America wondered of what England saw US as. America still felt the pain pounding inside his head.

* * *

**Elsewhere… **

New York felt his fingers run through the papers. The blond state was lying on the sofa in his bedroom. It has been hours since he found the mysterious receipt underneath all of Alfred's papers. He was desperate to find out more. But first, he had to make some calls. Albert flipped his cell phone and began to dial the numbers. New York ignored his phone's protest of his bulging voice mailbox. The mailbox was never empty. He waited for the phone to make a connection.

"Hello?" Albert said. "May I speak to the manager?" The person at the other end was the boss's secretary (her name was Shelley). New York fiddled around with his phone while he was talking. He was bored.

"Wait, he's not available?" Albert stared at the phone. "Well can you take my message? I would like to reschedule our meeting for this week. I have some family issues to attend…"

He listened in for the woman's reply. "Really? Thanks. And good day to you too." New York hung up the line. He waited on the sofa for a few minutes before sitting up.

Albert dialed another number. That was just one call. He had several other people to inform to as well. This time, the New Yorker was more impatient to get a reply from the other end. When the person finally picked up, Albert went straight to business. "Mr. Smith, I'm afraid I might not make it to your appointment as we agreed to. Can you continue without me? Much would be appreciated."

For the next few hours of that day, the New Yorker flipped through his nearly torn up phone book to look up all of his connections. One by one, he made his calls to cancel his appointments of that week. He went through his email address list to make sure that he didn't miss a person.

"Mr. Governor?" He twirled his finger around a hair strand; this was his last call. "Can you ask a representative to take over my position for a few days? I need to take care of some family problems at the moment."

New York waited for his boss's reply. "Is that so?" His boss was curious to see what the problem was. "It's nothing serious. Just a few misunderstandings." The governor was aware of what he was. "It will have no effect on the country. Good bye."

At last, New York collapse on his chair. He was so tired. He wanted to drop by Starbucks to grab that new cappuccino drink. Albert pressed his forehead against the laptop. What a hectic week. Several moments pasted in silence. He gazed at the ceiling of his apartment. He never realized how much people were dependent of him. Did he really know that many people? New York remembered the receipt from earlier. Albert bobbed his head up and looked at the small sheet of paper; the receipt was slightly curled up. The pink numbers were still readable. The phone was still lying by his side. He had one more call left to make. Once again, the state made his call. He had to look his phone book again to find the number he needed; the number he needed was on the last page. New York never stopped to wonder what the number was; it was always there listed under Alfred's numbers. The word 'important' and 'emergency' was scribbled in red and blue all over the phone address. New York crossed his fingers and prayed that the man would be there when he needed him.

"Hello?" New York tiredly greeted the person. "May I speak to Dr. Gierhart?"

* * *

**Author Notes: **

(1) –Thanks to Henry Ford's discover of the assembly lines, products are created in high quantity and in equal quality. I'm sure there were others before Ford who did this, but Ford was most famously credited for the discovery of this method.

(2) – Clothes that were bought back in America's days were personally made by tailors who owned their own businesses. Measurements were made, but were specially made for the customer to fit. An official size system did not really exist until during the American Civil War when mass production came in handy for both sides of the war.

(3) – I don't know about you, but I found stingy America to be very cute. He was such a conservative back then. Sadly to say, prices have been raising up for the past century.

(4) – I can't really blame Alfred was being afraid of Spain. In the eighteenth century, Spain has taken over nearly all of South America and Mexico is still under the Spaniard's rule. That means the Mexican Succession and Florida is still Spain's territory, which is roughly half of today's United States of America. Florida was so close to the colonies that paranoid England formed Georgia to act as a shield to protect America from any possible Spanish attacks. Many of the first people who came to settle in Georgia were criminals and people in debt.

* * *

**Notes: **Yata! I'm over the first hill of this story! For some reason, this chapter felt more painful than the last. It must be the angst. I honestly don't have much to say about this chapter. Except that Alfred is getting very pushy and very bratty at the moment. Looks like someone's jealous. Oh, and if you guys were curious, we're about half way through the story. 9 more chapters left. The count down starts now!

US: You make me sound like a bratty teenager.

RS: I know. You were a brat, but you were very cute.

US: -blushes at the comment- Are you planning to explain anything yet to your very confused readers? Like why New York is now back into the story?

RS: Nope. Not til later. Maybe in two chapters or so?

US: -groans- So long…. Even I don't know what's going to happen next.

RS: I know. That must be how my fellow audience must be feeling right now. –turns to readers- Anything you would like to add to the peanut gallery?

Readers: YES! UPDATE SOON!

RS: -plugs ears- Yeesh. Be patient peoples. Typing the story is only half the battle. I got to go back to reread and edit my stuff after I'm done typing the chapters. You know, more reviews would speed it up…

US: Advertising again? You got no shame.

UK: And why must I become a victim to that lusty American boy?

RS: Sorry England, you'll have to go through this for awhile until US comes back from the past.

UK: -groans- Crazy gits. All of you!

RS: Don't worry, England! This story will have an ending! Soon...

* * *

**Please read and review! If you are curious of when there will be an explanation to the story, you'll have to review your thoughts and feelings of this chapter if you want to see me update the next chapter. The end of this story is closer than you may think. **


	12. Chapter 12: Questions

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 12: Questions**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: In Soviet Russia, Hetalia owns YOU!

* * *

***past***

England panted as he walked down the beaten down road. What kept that American nation from collapsing? US was happily walking in an fast pace, whistling a snappy tune without a single sign of slowing down. The younger nation was walking fast enough to keep up with the soldiers' horses, and the American wasn't even trying!

"What the hell did you eat in the future to keep you like this?" England mumbled to the American.

"Just a few hamburgers." The American cheerfully announced.

"What in the name of the king is a hamburger?" England was afraid to find out.

"It's the best kind of food ever to be invented in the world!" Alfred spread his arms out as if he needed more reference to emphasize his point. "It's ground meat in a sandwich! You add vegetables and sauce to it." US didn't seem to notice the strange looks from the other soldiers passing by.

"That sounds revolting." England thought it was the most disgusting thing in the world. It sounded like something Prussia would eat or something (1).

"What are you talking about, England?" US was shocked. "It's awesome! That's what it is!"

"Something a beggar would eat (2)." The empire really wished that he didn't ask Alfred. The next thing you know it, the American would start to tell England that hamburgers would take over the food chain.

US threw off the Brit's not so subtle insult of the heroic hamburger. "Not tired are you, England?" He teased England. "Want me to give you a lift, again?"

England blushes a good deal of no less than five shades of red. "NO!" It was so much fun to see the empire flustered. US's comment only urged England to walk even faster. It was so embarrassing to talk to the older America. US was nothing like America. US was bigger, and stronger. He was way too loud and had no respect of other people's personal space!

He's so confident, England thought. England could not stop staring at US. The Brit remembered how polite US was when they first met. Alfred pretended to be Johnson because he was afraid of England. US? Afraid? Of him? Why? Was he that afraid of England's rejection? Although England admitted that the Brit's reaction to Alfred from earlier was pretty bad. US must have guessed that England was still bitter of the revolution, but England had every right to hate that blasted revolution! It was the only emotion he could feel. It felt like a piece of his heart had a hole carved into it when the American colony left the empire.

England wondered of what to do with US. US did not belong in this time period. Although the American seemed experienced enough in certain areas, at the same time, he seemed to have lost his edge in surviving in the wild. The empire was sometimes concern of how quickly US used up their fuel. US ate so much and seemed to be used in living in fantasy of small fancies, like taking hot showers or drinking sanitary water. Has the older American been living in some sort of luxurious future with limitless foods and supplies?

* * *

The two nations spent the rest of the day without talking.

When they stopped to rest, Alfred decided to break the silence. "You know," US started. "If you don't want to talk to me, than just say so." The American has already finished eating his food.

"Huh?" England gawked at the American like the former colony grew several spare limbs. England himself wasn't eating that much. The man ate like a bird.

"If you hate me," Alfred drew out a thin smile. "Than just say so. I don't want to guess what your feelings are. I can't read your face."

What that what US thought of England? Was England really that emotionless from the American's point of view? England has forgotten that it was the whole world who saw England as a arrogant and nasty empire with no feelings or regrets, so it was natural that Alfred might see the empire in the same way. England suddenly realized that when the news comes out of Alfred's victory over the great British Empire, some of the other nations' former fear of the English empire may decline. Many of the European nations would start asking England some questions of his lost. France already knew of England's several loses in battle against America; the French nation liked to see England lose. It was like France's idea of revenge for losing his Mathieu.

"I don't hate you." England told US. "Surely you know that."

"But you hate America?" US asked him. "You seem so eager to be getting rid of me."

"I love America too." England struggled to find the words. "Of course I hate him for leaving me!" They've talked about this before. A few days ago! Why must US bring back the subject again? Why did US enjoy making him suffer so much? Couldn't they forget about the war?

"Why do you keep asking me these questions?" England wanted to know. "Why must you keep pondering about the past?"

US said. "I don't know." He couldn't stop himself from showing such hesitation. "I don't know. I. The other America."

"What about you two?" England asked US. What about the present and future?

"I. We. We didn't want to leave you." Alfred cried. "We only did what we had to for our people. But we didn't want you to hate us for our decision."

"I know," England said. "You told me that."

"We can't help but wonder if you would still hate us for breaking away from you." US was starting to talk of his past and presents selves as a group than individuals. It was strange to hear the older American refer to himself as a 'we' then an 'I'.

"The past is the past." England said. "There's nothing we can do to change about it. You have claimed that you have come from the future, but even you don't know how you did it, did you?" The empire still could not comprehend how US has appeared to him. "If that's the case, then there really is nothing we can do about it. What has been done, has been done."

"I…"

"Don't say a word!" The English nation snapped. "Not another word!" He wore a fierce look. "What does my future self say about you?" How did the other England see US as?

"He says that I eat too much…" US sheepishly grinned. "That I can't read the atmosphere…"

"Does he hate you?" England was not quite aware of US and UK's relationship.

"No!" US said. "I don't think he hates me…" He thought of the times he and UK spent at each other's houses. They have been close for some time… But they always avoided talking about the revolution. US could never wash out his guilt for making England heartbroken because of that dreaded war.

"If he said he doesn't hate you, than he doesn't hate you!" England rubbed his temples. "God. Take his word. Is it really that hard to believe in me?" This England was not like the present UK, who seemed more patient and slow paced. England the empire was impatient; he wanted the answers and solutions here and now! The empire had a shorter waiting time limit than his future self did. He could not take any doubt. If someone said so, than believe it and accept it!

"I guess that's why our relation has been rocky at times," Alfred looked sad.

The Englishman sighed. There were still places where US lacked experience in. Having faith in others seems to be the American's lacking in experience. "All of us go through times of doubt," England told US. "But there are also times when you need to take their words for it. If everyone didn't believe in each other, nothing would get done. You can't live in doubt forever."

"England?" Alfred stared at the empire. Since when did England ever been so straightforward?

"If my words are not enough for you," England continued. "Ask my future self. We're the same person, but the older me might have changed some views of life as I might know it."

"Is that so?" US wondered.

"Just remember, Alfred." England said. "Have faith in England. Don't dwell in the past. Enjoy life."

"Thanks for having patience with me." US thanked his former guardian.

"That's why you kept asking me those questions, wasn't it?" The Brit wondered. "I'm not a fool. I can see it in your eyes. I haven't lost my sense of sight yet."

"I can see that." US gave England a weak laugh.

"I'm not trying to get rid of you." England said. "I'm just concern about your presence in the eighteenth century. I'm not too sure of how this may affect history."

"Yeah, yeah." US nodded. "Time paradox, that kind of crap."

"It's not crap!" England barked. "This is serious!"

"I know." Alfred said. "I'm just trying to lighten things up."

"I'm not too sure if your 'lightening it up' will make it any better." The British man added quotations to the American nation's words with sarcasm.

"No need to be such a stick in the mud." US pouted.

"Don't you want to go home?" England asked his former colony. That question has been irritating the Englishman for awhile. Ever since he had found out that Alfred was from the future.

"Yes." Alfred admitted. _I miss Arthur_, US wanted to say. England was nice, but for some reason, US still missed Arthur. Perhaps it was because of England's arrogant persona. Or was it just because England reminded US of the revolution? England always looked so bitter and torn apart by some invisible force, especially when the Brit was dressed in red. US was thankful that Arthur decided to change his uniform when the Brit realized that fighting wars in red was not the smartest strategy. The old British uniform brought back too many unwanted memories.

"So what is my future self like?" The empire asked. He was curious of his future's well-being.

"I thought that you didn't want to learn more about the future." US teased the older man.

"Well, I just want to know if my personality is any different." England looked a little hurt at US's subtle rejection.

"What do you want to know?" Alfred was curious of what kind of questions England had in mind to ask the young man.

"Do I still look the same?"

That's all? Alfred tried to remind himself that one answer may not satisfy the empire. "Yeah. You're still the same." He casually answered the Brit's question. "Still blond, short, big bushy eyebrows, cu…" US cut himself from finishing the last word.

"There's nothing wrong with my eyebrows." England grinded his teeth.

"England, those brows are thick enough to be mistaken as caterpillars." US smirked. "Those things are almost alive!"

England ignored Alfred's insults. "I'm not even that short." He tried to remind US. "Our height difference is barely an inch! There's nothing to be smug about!"

"One inch." US smiled. "That's enough for me."

"Ugh. You're annoying." England groaned. "What was the last word you were saying?" He remembered US's sudden cut from the last few words.

"Uh," US paused. "It's nothing." Alfred was not quite sure if he could explain to England why he thought that England was 'cute'. It would be strange. And awkward.

England pushed the question aside. Moving on. "Still isolating yourself?" England asked. He thought of America's years of isolation. Maybe if England didn't leave Alfred alone, he and the boy would still be together and the revolution wouldn't have taken place…

"Me? Nah," US carelessly waved his hand as a strange jester of a shrug. "I made some friends." _And lots of enemies_, a small voice cackled in the American's mind.

"Really?" That was new to England. He wondered who those friends were. "The empire wouldn't help but be a bit envious. "What about me?" Was he still the lonely empire?

"Are you lonely?" Alfred asked England. US forgot that England was used to be known as the friendly nation for quite a while in history. The empire had a few arranged marriages with other nations, but those were normally mandatory and were short lived.

"N-no!" The empire bit back. "Of course not!"

"That's okay!" Alfred gave the English nation a thumbs up. "You'll make friends! Arthur changed a lot. He's… You won't be by yourself anymore."

_Arthur?_ England thought. Since when did US refer to the Brit's future self by his human name? Even America has stopped referring to England as Arthur! America grew out of the habit of calling England by his human name since the former colony began to rebel.

"Arthur's still an old man," US went on. "Stern and serious! Maybe a bit grumpy, but he's a nice guy." Alfred thought of those times Arthur offered a helping hand. When the two of them fought for the same battles for the same reasons. He stopped to think, _Is Arthur okay? _If US was in the past, than wouldn't that mean the America was in the future? Would Arthur be okay with dealing with a younger America? US remembered being a stubborn person when he was a teenager.

The empire caught US's look of concern. Was US thinking about England's future self? "You said…" England was still surprised by the familiarity of Arthur and Alfred. "You said that I forgave you. So does that mean you two are close?"

"I." US bit his lips. "I guess you can say that."

"So did my future self get torn down by the other European nations?" England decided to test out his theory of Arthur and Alfred's relation.

"No he didn't." Alfred answered too quickly. He thought that England wasn't going to ask him questions about future events! How did England guessed about WWI and WWII?

"Are you sure he didn't?" England did not realize how close his prediction was. WWI and WWII would occur a century or so after his time.

"He didn't." US insisted; his eyes narrowed at how close England was to the truth. _Because I sent my men to protect aid his soldiers!_ He proudly thought. "Even he was he, which he wasn't." Alfred was sure to emphasize the last quote. "I wouldn't let that happen." _Because I love you, Arthur_, Alfred's thoughts trailed off from there.

"You seem to care about my future self a lot." England raised his thick eyebrows at the American. "What is it between you two?"

Alfred froze. What should he say? "We're friends." US automatically told him.

"Friends?" The empire looked skeptic. "Or it is something more?" England scratched his shoulder where one of his wounds was still bleeding. "I think there's another reason why you have been asking these questions too." In the empire's opinion, England thought that US was too affectionate. He thought that the American has been trying to get close to the empire too many times. Like the carrying incident! He sometimes thought that US was secretly comparing him and his future self at occasions. US sometimes looked sad when he talked about UK. Did that mean that US felt something even stronger towards the empire's future self?

"Is there something you would like to say to my question?" England asked the young nation. "Those questions were just to see how much you cared about me." The empire felt that it was peculiar to be talking in third person about oneself. England felt that it made him sound too arrogant and proud.

Damn. Alfred couldn't believe that he fell to England's tactics.

"Well," US said. Should he tell England? Alfred somehow had a feeling that his past self has seen too much in the future. Was it okay that US would tell past England this too? "We are rather close." Alfred carefully chose his words. "In political terms." He added.

_A foreign relation?_ England thought. He was surprised of hearing that. Not just allies?

"What's the name of the friendship?" England asked. He wasn't expecting much.

Alfred blinked. "They call it the Special Relationship." At times like this, US was embarrassed by England's old boss, Churchill, to have come up with that term. The name of the relation gave away too much.

_Special Relationship… what strange terms the politicians had in mind, _England thought. What more would they come up with in the next century?

"England?" US checked the older nation. Was he alright? England looked…shocked? Surprised?

"Special Relationship?" England finally said.

Alfred nodded.

"I see." England said. US looked at England. He couldn't read the British man's face. The empire didn't give anything away. England has been doing that a lot lately. England seemed to be handling things rather well for someone who just met a person from the future. US did not know if England picked up by what US meant when he named the term, 'Special Relationship'.

"I didn't know you two were that intimate." England found his voice again after moments of silence. "I didn't see it at first. I understand it now."

"Do you?" Alfred asked.

The empire chose to ignore US's question. "I have one last question." England announced.

US waited.

"What year are you from?" England asked. How far has the American traveled back in time?

That was an easy question. "I'm from the year, 2005." Alfred was careful to keep his voice low.

Hm. Did that mean that Nostradamus was wrong about 2000? England thought back in 999 when he and France thought that the world was coming to an end. He remembered the young panicking European nations at the time. England thought of how much France panicked. The rose bastard tried to molest him!

"Can I ask you a question now?" US asked the empire.

"Ask away." The English gentleman waves his hand around carelessly.

"Does it matter if I'm from the future?" Alfred asked. "Does it matter if America asked for your forgiveness instead of me?

England turned around to fully face US. "Alfred." He called the American's human name.

"The Revolution has just ended. I can't forgive America. I can forgive you, because you have been given time to realize your guilt. I know you meant it when you asked for my apology. I need time to heal. I will forgive America. One day. When the time is right. He needs to realize that when I'm gone, he won't have anyone else to help him. He will need to take care of himself." England stopped midway through his sentence to take a short breath.

"Don't talk so much," US told him. "Waste your breath on something else."

"I'm fine. Let me finish answering your question." England gave Alfred a smile. "Past or future, I still love you. You will always be America. No matter what time period you're in. You'll always be Alfred to me. America is America."

"That's quite a mouthful there." Alfred commented.

"It's a long question for a short question." The older nation agreed. "Your question is a complicated one."

"Sorry for causing you so much pain." US apologized.

"Didn't I tell you that you have been forgiven? It's the other Alfred who will have to face my wrath. You already had to deal with me once. You don't need to feel my anger the second time." England told US. US thought of the times when UK became drunk on the American's birthday because of the revolution. US definitely didn't want to go through that again.

"Does that answer your question?" England asked.

"Yes." US gazed at the horizon. "Yes it does."

"Good." The English nation coolly said. "Now let's put that map of yours into good use." He took out the old parchment out of his knapsack as he said so. "We need to get going now." The British and American soldiers were already standing up.

"Sure!" Alfred smiled; the American nation jumped on his feet. "Want me to tell you how I got that map?" The American eagerly wrapped his arms around the older nation from behind. US sure changed his mood in quick haste.

"No." England flatly answered. He tried to shrug US's arms off, but was unsuccessful.

"Why not?" US asked; he kept his grip on England's shoulders.

"I don't want to hear your lecherous tales of flirting with those American women." England was sure good at keeping a straight face when saying such venomous insults.

Alfred somehow managed to pout while keeping his arms around England. "You make it sound like it's a bad thing!" US's bobbing head nearly knocked England in the head.

"You're no better than that frog!" The English nation accused the American soldier.

"Ouch. That's got to hurt." US pretended to look wounded. Wait until France heard that.

"Stop hugging me." England frowned.

"Nope!" Alfred beamed. "Not planning to!"

"We can't walk if you keep doing that." He complained. "It looks like you're trying to snog me!"

"Snog?" Alfred looked confused. "You mean a kiss?"

"It's snogging!" England corrected Alfred.

"Heh." US smiled. "Snogging? How cute."

"Prat." England grumbled. He blushed at US's comment.

"Old man." US threw back an insult at the English nation.

England cursed. "Git."

Alfred smirked. "Blushing bride."

"What did you call me?" England raged.

"Ha, ha." The idiot wore an all knowing look.

"AMERICA!"

* * *

**~present~**

After a hellish day of making important phone calls and gathering information and documents, the teen began to gather his luggage to travel again. He felt that he was traveling too much nowadays. When New York went to the train station, the place was already packed with people from different directions. After moments of struggling to squeeze in between travelers and business people alike, New York managed to buy a ticket to West Virginia. He needed to get to Alfred's house. It was important. He must tell England of his findings. If England didn't know, the former empire might end up doing something risky or dangerous to America. Albert didn't want to think of the possibilities. Alfred's magical stories about his adventures with England were enough to scare the wits out of the state.

New York sighed when he hopped into the train. At least now, he could just relax for a few hours. A nap sounded nice, but the New Yorker didn't want to sleep. Albert feared of missing his stop and of accidently oversleeping in the train. New York was prone to sleeping for days on end when he had the opportunity to do so.

New York thought that coffee would do the work and keep him wide awake for awhile. Albert missed his daily coffee. He was addicted to the stuff (3). Why smoke or be on crack when you would have a nice cup of mocha chocolate? Coffee didn't costs much and it was delicious. Starbucks or Tim Horton's, they were both good. The New Yorker didn't care about his sister's warning that the addicting drink might stunt his growth. When you're a nation and have live to be almost four hundred years old, aging and growth almost didn't matter. Albert hasn't grown much since post WWII. Albert wondered why he didn't just make a brief stop to the local coffee shop before departing to West Virginia.

New York heard the snack car roll by. The state sat up to walk to the snack car to talk the woman who was rolling the car.

"What would you like?" The lady with the cart looked bored.

"Can I have a cappuccino?" New York asked. He began to dig into his pockets for his money.

"We don't have that." She said.

New York tried again. "Mocha chocolate?"

"Look kid," She looked annoyed. "This isn't Starbucks. We don't have that." New York was annoyed to be thought of as a kid. He was New York. The personification of a state. One of the original thirteen colonies. Home of the Big Apple and the Statue of Liberty! How old was he? Four hundred years old? Although by human standards, he looked to be about eighteen years old.

"Can I just have coffee, then?" Albert was irritated. Where was his goddamn coffee? He needed it. NOW! The New Yorker was going to faint if he didn't get his coffee now. The state wasn't too sure if he regretted ever falling heads over heels for the addicting beverage. _Maybe I should have went along with England and stuck to tea_, Albert thought.

"Here you go. That will be three dollars." She handed the hot cup of coffee to Albert.

Albert handed her the money and slowly went back to his seat. New York looked outside the window to see the big buildings of New York City pass by. He always felt close attachments for the Big Apple. The busy city was like his heart. But today, Albert needed to stop by Alfred's house for some information gathering. There was something America left out when the young nation described how he arrived to the present time. For hours to come, New York would not see America until later. When Albert took a sip from his coffee, he realized that the drink was very bitter and that the drink did not last very long.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Hamburgers originated from German immigrants in America, but Germany was not a united empire yet at this point in history.

(2) – During the Medieval times, sandwiches were thought to be food for dogs or beggars. The bread was to act like an edible bowl or plate for convenience. The term 'sandwich' was not coined until 1772 from a book, _A Tour to London_.

(3) – I always imagine New York as the type of guy who is always busy and awake for some kind of work, because New York City is a very busy city. Not all of New York is big cities, but since Hetalia is based on stereotypes, New York's going to be a city person. Most people think of NYC when they hear the word New York. Being the busy person Albert is, I just had to make him addicted to coffee. I guess you can say that America is a bit obsessed with coffee, because we're always on the move and feel the need to be awake and energized for the morning. Overworking also results in lots of sleep lost, so New York would naturally be a heavy sleeper for that reason.

* * *

**Notes: **I'm uploading this chapter in Canada at the moment. Got to see Mattie's beauty spots (Niagara Falls) ^_^. Plenty of talking in this chapter. Hope I didn't bored you to death. The next chapter is still heating up in the boiling pot.

RS: -checks reviews- Ah, I love watching my confused readers come crying to me. And their reviews right behind them! -takes out spoon from boiling pot-

US: You are such a sadist, you know that? (Did you just borrowed a line from the first episode of Hetalia?)

RS: Yeah, I know. (Why yes I did.)

US: How could you do this to me?

RS: What? Being a sadist? -tastes the spoon-

US: No. How could you betray me? TTATT

RS: ?

US: -points at RS's profile- You moved to frickin' what's-his-name?

RS: Canada?

US: YES! How could you betray me like this and move to Mattie's house? I thought you loved me! -cries- I hate you!

RS: -pulls on Nantucket- I'm just visiting the place. Not moving there.

US: Eep! Don't touch Nantucket! -pushes RS away- So you're not becoming a Canadian citizen? -stares at Canada's flag on RS's profile-

RS: No. I'm just there for a vacation.

US: Ohhhhh...

RS: Baka.

US: -bear hugs RS- Glad to see you still have love for the hero! ^o^b

RS: -crosses her arms and pouts-

US: Soooo... -stops hugging- Why. Is there. So. Much. Talking. In this chapter?

RS: -sighs in relief- I wanted to have England give US a proper talk. US needs some guidance and understanding of England's feelings! He needs to know that England still loves him! Isn't that enough to satisfy the USUK fans?

US: I guess. But you're still evil for leaving the fans hanging at the fragments of New York doing shady stuff in the dark.

RS: At least I made a proper and realistic slow pace of their conversation. Did you want US to automatically accept England's acceptance of his apology? That would have been boring to write. And that would be very short. S-shady? (Does New York look shady?)

US: When will New York get to my house? I want an exclamation to my weird past self's time traveling thingy. I'm still confused. And where did you get that boiling pot? -points at boiling pot of future plots-

RS: Haven't we been through this before? It takes time to get to the exciting plot! You can't rush a plot! Be patient! -smacks US in the head with a wooden spoon- I'm making curry. This is the boiling pot of future chapters and delicious curry. Want some?

US: No. England likes curry, not me. You get inspired by curry? -give RS weird look-

RS: Yes. Got a problem with that?

* * *

**Read and review and tell me what you think of this chapter. I want to hear your voices! Let me hear how you felt when you read this. I won't just want to hear you say, this is good, tell me more. Remember, every time you review, a page is typed for the next chapter. Review before the boiling pot of plots gets cold! I like curry. **


	13. Chapter 13: Answers

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 13: Answers**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: If I were to own Hetalia, US and UK would already be a couple in canon. So no, I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

**~present~**

Albert has never been so glad to get off the train. Spending hours in the vehicle was nerve-racking. As a nation, New York was used to always having something in his hands to occupy himself with. Need some papers to be signed? Okay. Virginia broke another door when she caught Maryland flirting with another woman again? Sure, New York would pay for the bill. England got drunk again and needed to be bailed out? Albert had the connections to free the English nation. Albert was just not used to having empty hands. His hands felt so bare. There was nothing to do. The only thing the New Yorker could actually do was rereading the documents he had in his briefcase, which was not very helpful, because it only made him more nervous. At least he would know all of his material before presenting it to England. New York didn't want England to catch him at his times of doubt or hesitance.

The coffee really did help. Sure, it was crappy, but it definitely kept New York awake. Albert didn't miss his stop, and now he was going to Alfred's house. The teen could find something to eat. Something to drink. And sleep. After he confronted England. New York wondered what England and America had been doing for the past few days. He remembered the numerous voice messages sent by England the other day. New York didn't actually hear the messages until he went through his voicemail during the train ride. The British nation's messages were buried under the infinite number of other voice messages from New York's very long contact list. Sometimes, Albert wished that he wasn't a state. Too many people wanted to talk to him. He certainly didn't envy nations. Nations probably had it worse.

Most of England's messages were repeated questions. _Albert, are you there? How is the research coming along? Did you find anything yet?_ The state finally found a taxi cab after several fail attempts and sat at the back of the taxi cab. By that point in time, the effects of the caffeine worn out. Albert must have fallen asleep, because the driver was shaking the state's sleepy shoulders when they arrived at the front of Alfred's home.

"Thanks for the ride." Albert thanked the cab driver. New York waved good bye to the man and ran to the house.

Walking up the doorsteps, New York rang the doorbell and waited for England or America to answer. After several minutes and ringing the bell again, Albert decided that the two nations were not home.

_They're not home? _Albert thought. _Where are they?_

New York looked at the house. Should he just walk in? Would US mind? Albert still had the keys to the house. It was his father who gave him the spare key, in case of emergencies. _Well_, the state thought, _this is an emergency. I'm sure dad would be okay with this._ As New York reasoned with himself, he pulled out the keys. It took awhile, but after going through nearly all of the different keys, New York finally found the right key to fit into the slot.

Albert took a deep breath, _here goes nothing_.

New York swung the door open. The door let out an ominous creak.

* * *

**UK and America**

It was ten o'clock when America and England left the house. The result of yesterday's incident at the mall ended in a low note. America refused to look at England in the eye and ate the Brit's cooking without a single complaint. The new nation was obviously still upset about the kissing episode. Was America embarrassed? Or was he just in shame of displaying so much emotion?

England himself was not in a decent mood. He was still surprised and shocked of how daring America was to try a devilish stunt. England did not see it coming. He had no idea that America felt that way to England. The Brit knew that US had eventually developed romantic feelings to the English nation sometime during England's absence, but England never thought that it was America from the revolution who felt similar emotions.

England thought of how for the past several days, America was bugging the Brit for information about US. England thought that it was out of pure curiosity. He thought that it was natural to be curious about your future. It seemed likely that Alfred would want to know about his future. Although England should have hidden the truth from America. America has seen too much. The younger America did not know about WWI, WWII, or any of the political related occurring of the world, but America did take a glimpse of technology and of the world's modern society. That might be enough to trigger major changes in history. England scolded himself for being too reckless. He should have been more careful. He should have thought about the consequences before showing too much to America. Now America might come back to 1783 and emphasize more on industrialization, when America would remained mostly an agricultural nation until later in the nineteenth century. England was a fool.

_Don't you love me? _

England wondered about America's lingering question. Did England love him? Of course he did! He loved the boy, but not like that. Not like that at all. America was still a boy. America was still naïve.

"England," America's dully asked. "Where are we going?" They were heading towards the opposite direction of the main part of the town. America has never been to that part of the town until this point.

"You'll see." England said. They walked across the empty street. For the main part, this side of the town was empty because its citizens were still at work.

What kind of place was England planning to take America to? America gazed at the trees and bushes that seemed to have jumped to the side of the sidewalk every now and then. It was strange to see that most of the town was consisted of concrete. Which part of the town was not manmade? Alfred missed the green surroundings of his home. He missed the calm still atmosphere of his old West Virginia compared to the new West Virginia's loud and nosy streets. Alfred missed the carriages and horses that used to pass by his old house in the revolution days. He wanted feel the soft bedding of dirt beneath his feet. How long was it going to take to get to England's destination?

England and America walked through one more crossing before they came into a complete stop.

"We're here." England cheerfully announced. It contrasted to America's worn out mood.

"What is this place?" America wondered. He stared at the strange new environment before him.

The place. It looked like a pit. There was another section of the area with grass, but America's attention was more focused at the pit. A small section of the place was covered with cement of course; everything in the future had to be covered with man's earth. In part of the area, there was sand filling in the pit of grey concrete like water would in a pond. In the sand were short slides built with metal (the blue paint was almost all gone) and some sort of light weighted material (1). There were bars attached to one part of the slide that connected to a shorter slide. Small glass shards could be seen shining through the dirty uneven sand. Alfred saw more metal bars rising from the ground. Attached to the hung of metals were swings? It didn't look anything like the swing America remembered from his childhood. The swings he remembered were hung from trees, but America thought that metal bars would work too. It must have must the equipment last longer, America thought.

"Are…" America stared at the bizarre place that England brought him to. "Are those swings?"

It seemed that America recognized the familiar object.

England's mood instantly lit up. "They are!" He exited said. This is a park. Do you want to swing?"

"I guess." America honestly did not understand why England decided to take him to swing. It made no sense at all.

"Let's go!" England smiled. America tried to smile back, but failed.

Would bringing America to a familiar place help bring back US? This was the same park where US had disappeared from. There was a tiny piece of hope inside England that prayed that US could return back to the present if England were to bring America. England was dragging America by the hand again. America was like a lost stray dog that had no sense of direction. The young nation always seemed out of place and confused. The American's unconfident personality was a strange combination with his big body, as it was evident in the way the boy walked. America always slouched his back. Was it a habit?

America was too used to being taken by the hand to really be surprised anymore, but that didn't stop him from blushing anyway. Any human contact with England was a miracle to America. England finally let America go. England from the revolution didn't even look at him in the eye anymore. America went to swings. The swing was supported by chains. Alfred went over to sit on the seat of the equipment and used his feet to launch himself up into the air.

"Aren't you going to swing?" Alfred childishly asked England.

"I'm too old for that." England told him. He distantly recalled that US went on the swings before the American nation fainted. England secretly feared that he too, would disappear into the past like US did if the Brit decided to follow the same sequence of events. He wasn't even too sure how US time traveled; England just didn't want to risk the chances of doing so. England's fear of the unknown was very apparent.

"Oh." America was expecting that. "Where is everyone else?"

"All of the children are at school." The English nation said. "They have to learn too." He thought of the times when he home schooled Alfred.

"A public school?" Those were not very common in Alfred's times. Most of the schools were small and was taught by one teacher. The wealthier American colonists had tutors or attended private schools or colleges (2).

"Yes" England watched Alfred swing backwards. It looked as though America might fall over on his back.

"How big are the schools?" Alfred asked as he swung upward, facing the tall bright sky above him. The sun shone on his face.

"Big enough to hold all of the town's children." The former empire answered.

"That's big." America was beginning to pick up his pace on the playground equipment.

"Yeah." What an awkward conversation.

"I thought you said that I was too old for swings!" America screamed as he rose higher.

"I'm just trying to get you to enjoy yourself." American nearly kicked England in the face for swinging too far.

"You took me here for a reason didn't you?" America suspected.

"What do you mean by that?" England pretended to be innocent. He began to back up, it looked like America might throw himself off the swings.

America threw himself forward, jumping off the swing. England never liked it when America did that, the empire always said that it was dangerous. Alfred's not so soft landing sent sand flying everywhere. England had to shield his eyes from the sand. The former empire was now covered with sand and debris.

Standing in front of England, America finally declared. "You want to talk to me about something. You brought me here for a reason, didn't you?"

Silence.

"Well?" America bellowed "Am I right?"

England just said. "Let's talk."

"Let's." America curtly replied.

* * *

**New York**

New York was shocked to see how neat and clean Alfred's place was. The last time he visited his father's home, it was a wreck. Looks like England became the mother hen and has decided to clean and tidy up the place. The living room's bookshelves were dusted and the books were neatly straighten up and categorized by author's names. The kitchen's floor was mopped and the appliances were stored away in the cabinets. The house looked clean. Too clean.

Albert went to Alfred's room. Did England cleaned his father's room too? Maybe the Brit has already known about Alfred's condition and that the New Yorker had came down south for nothing.

When Albert walked into Alfred's room, it was still the same old mess he recognized from before. The books were still stacked on the side. The messy clothes were still there. New York saw Alfred's bomber jacket sticking out from the closet.

_How am I supposed to find what I need in this mess?_ New York panicked. So. Messy. Must. Clean up. He wanted to clean up the place. So badly. But he must not. New York had to leave the room alone. New York didn't want America to realize that Albert had gone through his stuff. It seemed that even England's tidiness could not reach his father's room.

New York glanced over Alfred's desk. There were bills, pens, comic books, tissue papers, but not what Albert was looking for. New York spied a white blob next to Alfred's desk lamp. Mochi? The thing had thick eyebrows and big eyes. Its cheeks were pink and it wore a permanent irritated expression. Weird. The pillow sized plushie was a handmade gift from Japan. Kiku had the strangest taste of what was cute, or as the Japanese nation quoted as 'moe' and 'kawaii'. Several times when Albert came to visit, he caught his father hugging the mocha plushie like there was no tomorrow. This is when New York starts resorting to going to the guest room and wonder how was it possible that his father was over five hundred years old (3), yet still acted like a child. Then again, there was China, who was one of the oldest nations, and the Asian country still carried about around that creepy Hello Kitty doll. None of the nations acted like their appropriate ages.

Albert continued his search in the closet; the closet was big enough to be a small room. US had a big wardrobe due to insisting that he must keep all of his clothes from his past. Albert made a face when he spotted Alfred's old redcoat uniform at the back of the closet. Albert felt the soft worn out fabric of the red attire. It looked like its years of use were over. There were holes all over the uniform, probably from the moths. His father still kept that? How could US stand looking at it?

Much to his disgust, Albert next went to search through the trash bin. There was no food (thank goodness), but there were lots of scrap paper piling in the container. Many of them were blue plans for ridiculous inventions. US loved to come up with new technology. It was the American's hobby, besides eating hamburgers and ice cream, playing videogames, reading comic books, and befriending buffalos/whales/aliens/what other living being you could possibly think of. God, his father was like a frickin' Snow White with his animal friends, New York thought when Tony came into the state's mind. Lucky for Albert, Tony wasn't staying at Alfred's house this month. The alien was living with New Mexico at the moment. The New Yorker's Mexican brother was so strange, always obsessed with aliens and was convinced that they existed. Well, looks like there was nothing interesting in the trashcan.

However, during his tiresome search, Albert did find Texas lying on the floor beneath the mess of clothes. The lenses were still in perfect condition.

_Man, his vision is worse than mine!_ New York thought when he tried the glasses out of curiosity.

After looking through most of the room, New York was almost ready to give up. In desperation, he tried the bed. Underneath the bed. Like most beds, underneath Alfred's bed was, well… everything that Alfred didn't want to see. There were letters dated back from 1776 from England. There were books and documents that Alfred seemed to be ashamed of. How was it even possible for one bed to hold so many items? When Albert felt his way through the chaotic mess, he felt the even texture of a plastic container. Was this it?

New York pulled the mysterious object out. He found it. He found it. He felt so relieved. New York went over to Alfred's desk to sit. He was so tired. He exited out of the door to go to the kitchen. He wanted something to eat. He was so hungry… How long would it be until England and America would return home?

* * *

**UK and America**

"What shall we talk about?" England started their conversation with a rhetorical question. They were both sitting on the grassy area of the playground. America was lying down on his back.

"You know what you want to say." America claimed. He started to pick out the grass blades beside him in irritation.

"Is that so?" England quietly said. "Well than, let's cut this short. Are you still mad at me? America?"

"Yes." America bitterly replied.

"Why?" England asked.

"Didn't I say before? You like the other America more than me!" The American accused his former brother. He aggressively pulled out the poor green shrubs by the roots.

"I never said that." England assured him.

"But you never look at me." America said. "You don't see me as a man, do you? You want to get rid of me. You're always so happy and eager to find a way to get your US back." His words were venomous.

"America, you're still young." The Brit said. He was so wary. "You still have years to go before you face the world."

America said. "I'm over two hundred years old."

"Age doesn't matter," England told Alfred. "Look, I'm sorry I can't stop seeing you as my little brother. I just can't."

"What does US have that I don't?" Alfred demanded. "What's so great about him?"

"He's a kind man." England said. "Both of you are. I have no grudge on neither of you. And I don't hate you. I just want you to return back to your time. You don't belong here. It's not normal. It would destroy history."

"Screw history," Alfred mumbled. He wanted England all for himself. He wanted to kiss the British man and own him. All of him.

England kissed the side of America's head. "Please understand," He hugged the American teen. "I love you both."

"Hmph," America huffed. What was up with him today?

"You're not jealous of US, are you?" England asked. He watched Alfred blush ten times hues of red.

"N-NO!" Alfred denied.

"There's nothing to fuss about," England said. "You two are still the same. Big, arrogant, prats with a big ego about heroes."

America broke into a stiff smile when he heard England complain about the two Americas. That meant that US was still an annoying guy, right? He felt somewhat better.

"So you wanted a kiss?" England asked. America slowly nodded. The former empire bended down to kiss America; the kiss was on the cheek. This left Alfred disappointed. He felt like he was cheated. He was hopping for England to go for the lips. He wanted to feel the Englishman's moist lips clash against his own.

"Are you in a better mood now?" England said when he pulled away. "Let's go home." He stood up.

"Fine." America was still disappointed. He grumpily sat up and got to his feet.

* * *

When England and America returned home, they were surprised to find Albert in the kitchen. The state was making lunch and was already half way through with a big sub sandwich when the two nations walked in.

"New York?" England's surprise told Alfred that the Brit did not arranged the meeting.

"Albert?" Alfred was just as startled by his son's sudden reappearance.

"Yo." New York lazily greeted them. "Sandwich?" He held up his sandwich for the two to see.

"No thanks." England rejected the food. "What brings you here?" Translation: _Why the hell are you here? I tried to call you so many bloody times this week, and you wouldn't respond to any of them!_ Inner England raged.

"I just came by to say hello and to see how the research has been coming along." Albert said. "I actually didn't get to your messages until this morning because of my troublesome voice mailbox."

America blinked. England had sent Albert messages? In less than a week? That was amazing! "How did you do that?" He asked England. "That's so cool!" (4)

"England would love to tell you how," New York interrupted his father. "But I really need to speak to him now about your little time issue." He pushed England into the hall. "Stay in the kitchen, Alfred! Our chat won't last that long!"

England screamed. "Where the hell are we going to?"

"Shhh…" Albert silenced the Brit. "We'll be talking in Alfred's room."

"Can't you stop pushing me like that!" England cried. "Didn't Alfred teach you any manners?"

New York ignored him. "How's the research coming? Found anything helpful?"

England shrugged. "Nothing much. Alfred's scenario is strange."

"It is." Albert agreed. "Those books told you that time traveling was forbidden, didn't they"

"You looked up magic?" England asked. He thought that Albert stopped believing in magic ages ago.

"Yes I did." The New Yorker stated. "It turns out that even you magicians even have no control over time itself. Strange how magic seems to make things more complicated than being more convenient."

"Magic is a dangerous art," The former empire said. "It takes lots of knowledge and experience to perfect it."

"You saw those books where they asked for a hen's wisdom teeth?" The teen asked.

"Yes." The English gentleman replied. "Those aren't real. Those are just frauds."

"That's what I thought." New York said as he paced down the left side of the room. "So I take it that your search was fruitless."

"Did you find anything?" England raised his eyebrow.

"I did." New York said.

"What is it?" England asked. Could America finally return to the past? How so? Didn't they just talk about time traveling being impossible! Was there a loophole in the law?

"I will tell you." He said. "If you were to come with me to Alfred's room."

"What does his room hold importance of?" England wondered.

"Don't you think that America's description of how he came to the present sounded a bit suspicious?" The New Yorker asked England.

"I suppose so." England replied.

"What did he tell you?" Albert questioned.

The English man stared at New York. "Alfred said that he fainted in the battlefield and woke up in the present."

"Did he say why he fainted?" Was New York hiding something? Why all of the questions?

"No." England sadly said. He wished that America wouldn't be so vague. The research would have been easier if America would have been more specific of his journey.

"Didn't something happen back than in 1783?" Albert tried to remember. He thought of the many scars marked on US's body. Alfred had quite a collection of markings.

"That's right." England realized. He recalled the falling rain that was silenced by the sound of a bullet. "Alfred was shot."

"Thanks for telling me that." Albert said. Perfect match.

"Why are you thanking me?" England was truly confused. Shouldn't Albert be angry? Shouldn't the state be ready to break the Brit's neck for harming the New Yorker's father? "And why are you asking me all of this? What do you know? You're hiding something." England's eyes narrowed.

"Follow me to Alfred's room." New York ordered him; the two blonds were now walking up the stairs to Alfred's room.

"Will you finally tell me what's going on?" England asked.

"I will tell you as it is." Albert said.

Albert and England finally made it to the top of the stairs and ran off to Alfred's room.

"You didn't clean up his room." Albert commented when they opened the door to the mess. It looked like a tornado had struck Alfred's room, especially after New York dug through the mess in his warrant search.

"He doesn't let me go touch his room." England claimed. "Are those Texas?" He never noticed until now that New York was clutching tight onto Alfred's glasses. How long had Albert gained possession of Texas?

"Yes." New York moved the glasses over his eyes. "These are dad's glasses. I found them on the floor while I was looking through his stuff."

"You were looking through his stuff?" England shrieked.

"Be quiet." He glared at England. "I was looking for some evidence. Doesn't Alfred need these?" New York waved the glasses at England. "I'm surprised America could manage to survive up til now without walking into walls."

"What are you talking about?" England curtly asked the state. "America has perfect vision. He never needed glasses."

"Until Texas joined us," Albert recited the date. "December 29, 1845. Had you ever looked at the way America walks? Or if he could read signs from a far distance?"

England thought about what Albert just asked. Now that the Englishman thought about it, America did always slouched, even more than he normally did. More than the America should have. America did squinted his eyes a lot in frustration, and if England recalled correctly, yesterday, America struggled reading the shop signs when England and America were at the mall.

New York kept his eyes on England. "Well?" Albert demanded. "Did you?"

"He does struggle with reading signs." England admitted.

"What about his size?" Albert asked again. "Or his weight? His height? Had you paid attention to these details? You shared more days with him than I did, so my knowledge could only be supported by your observations."

"When we went shopping for his clothes, America wore the same size as US did (5)." England reported. "I think both of them weigh the same; they're both heavy, and I can't tell about his height because he never walks with a straight back."

"I see." Albert said.

"What does that mean?" England asked. "What will this prove?"

"That means that America has been using US's body the whole time." New York explained. "Their bodies have never physically switched. It means that America and US have never truly time traveled."

England blinked. America has not been time traveling? Well…that cleared up several things, but that still left the English nation's mind blank.

"England." New York asked him. "How sure are you that America's body is the same as US's?"

"Now that you have pointed that out," England said. "I think it's very apparent. They share so many similarities, their bodies, I mean. America still eats as much as US does."

"If you don't believe it," New York added. "We can always check if you want more proof."

"We can do that." The Brit didn't really think much when he said that.

"At least we are certain that this isn't a time traveling incident." New York was almost glad to know that time traveling wasn't possible, at least for now. Albert wasn't too sure if he could explain to his boss how why his father has been absent for almost a week. It probably wasn't the best idea for any nation to have the knowledge of changing history at all.

"You seem to know a lot." England continued. "When will you tell me? What is the issue with America? If he's not from the past, than what is he?"

"Look underneath America's bed." New York commanded.

"What?" The English nation looked surprised.

"Look under." He ordered the Brit again.

Hesitantly, England went down on his knees to take a peak underneath the American nation's bed. As expected there were clusters of rubbish and debris hidden beneath the furniture.

"Do you see that bottle?" Albert asked. He pointed his finger to the small white bottle lying on its side.

"Yes." England saw it.

"Pick it up." Albert commanded.

The former empire stared at the state. "Why?"

"Just pick it up." New York's voice was firm.

The Brit picked up the bottle and stared at it. It was one of those bottles that were made to contain tablets and pills. The bottle's cap was made to prevent small children from getting their hands of the inside's contents.

"Do you understand what this is?" New York asked England.

The English man answered. "This is a bottle of pills."

"Do you recognize what type of pills these are for?" Albert's eyes were focused onto England's.

"Why don't you just tell what is it already?" England was starting to get impatient. He couldn't contain the sudden rising of fear in the pits of his guts. His instincts told him that there was going to be bad news.

New York slowly opened his bag that was slung to his side to retrieve the receipt. He took out the paper to hand them over to England. "I wanted you to see this yourself."

"Aren't these prescriptions?" England wondered. He stared at the chicken scratch writing of the doctor.

"Yes they are." The New Yorker confirmed. "These are pills prescribed by a doctor in West Virginia. The pills were picked up from the local pharmacy in Washington D.C."

"What are the pills for?" England was curious. A cold? Flu? Sleeping pills? Diet pills?

"These pills were prescribed because of this." The state now handed over thick stacks of documents to England.

"These are Alfred's transcripts of his health history?" England asked. "Most nations don't have one since we can't switch doctors that easily like humans can." There was always that fear of releasing too much information to the public. Some nations don't even bother getting one, because some think, 'Why bother if we can't control our own well-being?'. A nation's physical health depended on the economy and the government.

"The doctor has been Alfred's doctor for several decades." New York explained. "He's a bit like a close family friend."

"Where did you get these papers from?" The former empire asked.

"I got these from the hospital on my way here." Albert said. "The place recognized me immediately.

"His health looks fine for the most part." England commented. US was as fit as a mustang. For someone who always stuffed his face with burgers, US was in perfect health. Maybe a little sick because of the economy, but for the most part, he was still in fine condition.

"Look at the next page." Albert bitterly told the older nation.

England flipped to the next page. He watched England's eyes scan through the papers. The Brit's bright eyes darted all over the documents, there were signs of shock. Fear. Disbelief.

"England?" New York's voice bobbed up. "Something the matter?" He was afraid that this would have happened.

"H-how?" England's voice was shaky. "Is this possible?" Why must this be? So they have confirmed that America and US have not time traveled, right. That was clear. But this was not what England had in mind.

"Alfred never told you this?" New York assumed.

"No." England shook his head. "Never."

"I thought that since you two were very close, he would have told you." Albert was so sure that England might have known, or at least knew that US was on pills.

"That's what I thought." The English nation sadly smiled. Why didn't Alfred ever tell him of this? Didn't Alfred trust England? "You don't know about this either?"

"No." Albert replied. "Dad never told me this either. He hides a lot of things from me and the other states." He sounded so bitter.

"Why is he so stupid?" England cried. "That idiot! He shouldn't let people around him be in dark! Fuck!" The Brit cursed. "Idiot!"

"Did you read the symptoms?" New York tried to drag the English nation away from his anger.

"Yes." England replied. The English man couldn't believe it that he didn't notice it before.

New York quietly opened the bottle. The cap was unusually loose. The plastic cap fell to the ground.

"How long has this been going on?" England hesitantly asked the New Yorker.

"The files claimed that Alfred has been diagnosed since 1979, but that's only because the disorder was declared official on that same year." New York reported as he gave the bottle a small shake. "He could have had this before he was diagnosed. Perhaps even a century before that."

The bottle was almost filled to the top with pills. "It looks like dad has been neglecting to take these for awhile." Albert dumped the bottle upside down. Clusters of pills rained down onto the dirty wooden floor.

"I can't believe this," England moaned. He felt his hands slide down the smooth paper. The English gentleman could feel the bumpy ink of the letters. No matter how much the former empire prayed, the truth would not change.

Alfred was diagnosed with D.I.D. (6)

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Plastic.

(2) – Colleges like Harvard or Yale were originally created to train those who were to attend a career in religion. The subjects that were taught in school in the revolution times included English, Latin, French, Bible, arithmetic's, literature, philosophy, etc. In the 19th century, the American school system began to focus more on practical subjects such as the sciences.

(3) - Yes, I realized that Jamestown was not settled until 1607. We had America and Canada exist before they became colonies or nations, so I assume that they come into existence when ideas are formed of the land their represent. We had Spain settle in certain parts of America before England found Jamestown. The origin of the name America is commonly said to have deprived from Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian merchant and cartographer who explored South America's east coast and the Caribbean sea in the early 1500s.

(4) - Delivering mail was a very slow process because of transportation's low technology. It took one person 9 days to go from one state to another during America's time period. Mail service was unreliable and unprivate because the mail carriers would sometimes lose them or read them when bored.

(5) - So why did America think that US's clothes were too big? Well, for one, he didn't wear a belt. Two, US wears really big clothes that feels very loose in America's opinion. And three, he made himself think that the clothes didn't fit, so it didn't fit him. When America tried the clothes at the mall, he had held the expectation that the clothes would fit, resulting in America choosing the same size as US. This idea was loosely based off of the Placebo effect theory, where college students who drank "near beer" acted and share the symptoms of being drunk because they thought that they were going to get drunk, so they did act drunk. This effect just proves how strange the human mind is and how much control they have in keeping and creating memories.

The size gap between US and UK isn't even that big. US is only about 1 inch taller than UK; US is slightly more muscular than UK, but asides from that, there isn't much of a difference between them in size.

(6) – You're on your own for this one. Have fun with research. If you actually care about what on earth this condition is. Or, you can just wait until next week to see what it is in my next chapter, but can you wait that long?

* * *

**Notes: **England still does not see America as a man, but things will eventually get better. I hope. It turns out that America and US did not switch through time at all and Alfred has D.I.D! -le gasp-

After retyping this so many times, I hope that the flow of the talking wasn't too awkward. I know New York took his pleasure time to get to his point, but you have to remember, Albert apparently did not know US's condition himself, so both he and England are shocked with the new finding. New York is trying not to spill too much information into England; he doesn't want England to be overwhelmed by the sudden flow of knowledge.

US: So. That's my issue?

RS: Yep. –rolls over and tries to sleep after long chapter-

UK: Do the readers even know what D.I.D. stands for? It's not even an international label.

RS: -opens one eye- Probably not.

UK: Are you forcing your readers to look up things? -annoyed-

RS: -smirks- Yes.

US: -sigh- So I'm the victim here?

UK: Apparently so.

US: Can't you just add some info on D.I.D. in your Author's Notes? To inform your readers?

RS: -sits up- NO. That would take up take up too much room and words. That's for the next chapter! And that wouldn't make it fun. I want my readers to look it up themselves and see if they can figure how what's the big fuss.

US: You _will_ tell the readers more in the next few chapters. _**RIGHT?**_

RS: Yes, yes. I will. –frowns-

UK: What's wrong?

RS: I have school next Wednesday! TAT

UK: -pats RS- It's okay.

RS: Can you believe it? This is my last year! TT_TT –already has senioritis-

US: Don't worry! You just have one more year to endure! You can do it!

Readers: Just don't abandon this story.

RS: I won't. Don't worry guys. I already typed several future chapters by the time this is posted. So I will probably still be posting these chapters on a weekly basis even when school starts.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please post your thoughts and opinion of this chapter and review. I have been waiting so long to post this. Well...I've been saying that for lots of chapters lately. Actually, there many parts I had fun writing about. This just happens to be one my favorite. And it probably left you even more clueless than before and you will probably be mad at me for not saying more. Haha. That's the for next chapter. This is just the beginning of the end. If that actually makes any sense. We're almost three quarters done with this story. We still have seven chapters left. The next chapter will hopefully have some more explanations. **


	14. Chapter 14: Broken

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 14: Broken**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. The article below was based from a textbook, a wikipedia article, a health book, and a few online resources; I don't own those either.

* * *

**~present~**

"Did you read the symptoms?" New York tried to drag the English nation away from his anger.

"Yes." England replied. He looked at the opened pages in front of him. In tiny writing, the same doctor wrote down, _It has been months since Alfred has confronted me with his condition. Many of his symptoms match those diagnosed with D.I.D. _The paper was signed, Dr. G. Below the message was the definition of Alfred's condition.

_D.I.D.; aka. Dissociative Identity Disorder_

_In the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems, another name for this condition is M.P.D., aka. Multiple Personality Disorder. Dissociative Identity Disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis, a condition in which a person attains distinctive multiple personalities, also referred to as alter egos or alters. Each personality has its own pattern of reacting and relating to the surrounding world and environment around them. The person may have two or more such egos that routinely take control of the individual's behavior that the person loses big gaps of memory. The symptoms cannot be temporary effects from drug use or general medical condition. _

_The symptoms of D.I.D. may vary at wide occurrence through time. The person may share a few of these symptoms. Some symptoms include:_

_-multiple manners, attitudes, views, or way of talking_

_-unexplainable headaches and other body pains _

_-distortion or loss track of time_

_-comorbidity_

_-depersonalization_

_-derealization_

_-severe memory loss_

_-depression_

_-flashbacks of abuse or trauma _

_-unexplainable phobias_

_-sudden anger without justified cause_

_-lack of intimacy and personal connections_

_-frequent panic or anxiety attacks_

_-auditory hallucinations of the personalities inside their mind_

_Many patients diagnosed with D.I.D. are prone to have other disorders too. _

The English man couldn't believe it that he didn't notice it before. The headaches Alfred constantly complained about. The occasional mood swings. How anxious America has always been. He felt like someone had just smacked him in the face. All that research he had done at the library... It was pointless. Alfred had never time traveled after all. It was all an illusion. There was no time traveling. It was all an assumption. An illusion. Alfred's problem wasn't even linked to magic. It was a medical issue. Not a magical issue. America was not Alfred from 1783. America was apparently just a personality created by US. Alfred had D.I.D., and even his children were not aware of it. And what happened to the other Alfred? And England was so sure that America and US had time traveled...

"How can you be so sure?" England asked New York. He didn't want to believe that this was the truth. "If Alfred does have multiple personalities, than why doesn't he keep switching personalities that we can notice it?"

"From my years of reading and a bit or researching," Albert pressed his glasses up. "I believe that the symptoms are not always constant and there may be times when the symptoms stay low for long periods of time." He began to take the pills off the ground, one by one, and began to rearrange them into a small flowery pattern.

"Because D.I.D is thought to be from child abuse or trauma." England remembered.

"Yes." New York said. "Which means that Alfred would switch personalities every time he's under stress or because of a reminding of trauma. Many patients have multiple personalities because they often use them as escape routes or defense mechanisms to block out reality." He glared at England. Each of the pills on the floor was now neatly lined up in a row.

Albert was clearly thinking about the Revolutionary War. Alfred was shot by one of England's men! Alfred probably thought that England accidently ordered the attack. That was enough to be classified as child abuse and trauma. When New York asked US if the nation remembered much of what happened after England surrendered, US just shrugged and said that he didn't remember much. It really did look like US didn't remember much, because US's face looked so lost and blank when the American nation tried to recall the aftermath of the war. England seemed to have remembered everything.

"US has been depressed a lot lately." England commented. "That was one of the symptoms too."

"I noticed." New York sarcastically replied.

"Are you putting the blame on me?" England demanded.

"No." Albert claimed. England didn't believe him.

England thought of the many times Alfred went into big periods of depression, such as during the Cold War or September 11th. The American would spend days, even weeks, locked up in his house and refusing to meet the light of day. US began to eat a lot in stress, which developed into an eating disorder. Alfred began to sleep more to the point that it was unhealthy. It scared England, it even terrified him. The nation as so young, but easily became depressed because of the constant changing global events. Alfred had formed too many bad habits because of that. Too many things have changed in the twentieth century.

England was never very focused or fond on studying mental health, but he had a somewhat clear knowledge of psychology. "The disorder has not become official until the 1980s, because earlier recordings of the disorder were mostly patients with schizophrenia mistaken for having multiple personalities. This condition is still fairly new."

"Right." Albert said. "After schizophrenia became an official disorder, the percentage of mentally ill patients with multiple personalities decreased."

"How can we be so sure that Alfred really does have two personalities?" England questioned.

"My only evidence and explanation are from these papers and the doctor's notes." New York said. The pills changed into a formation of a rabbit. "Alfred had several doctors before who tested him again to be sure. Their papers are still here, but the doctors themselves have died a few years ago or have retired."

"Wouldn't this have happened during the Civil War, too?" England thought of the war of North versus South. "Since you guys slit into two? So how could you not see his alter self than if Alfred's second self was created because of me?"

"He did change personalities." Albert whispered. The rabbit was wearing a frown.

"He did?" The Brit was surprised.

"He did." New York recalled the small fragment of memory. "But we all thought that he was just crazy. Insane. Possessed by the Devil and being punished for fighting his own children." He thought of the southern states that have rebelled against their father, US. It was a memory that the New Yorker would have like to discard from his mind.

"What did the other personality acted like?" The Englishman asked.

"He acted like America." Albert said. "He acted like a child that has awoken from a nightmare. He was confused and did not remember anything except that he had just returned from the Battle of Saratoga."

"The personality is still from the revolution times?" England was even more interested in this. How queer. He thought it was strange that Alfred's personality was almost directly based off the younger Alfred's personality.

"Dad went through the same thing during WWII when he saw you again," New York said. "But I think we labeled him as something else. It didn't seem to have lasted that long."

England knew about Alfred being depressed. He knew about the American having an eating disorder and that Alfred was trying his best to recover. But England honestly did not know about Alfred having D.I.D., which covered the fact that those with D.I.D. normally had other disorders. The symptoms described it too well.

"Do you want to confirm that they have D.I.D?" The state asked England. "We can run several more tests if you want."

"Just tell me what we should do to get Alfred back to normal." England knew that the chances of curing D.I.D. was slim, because those that were still under the care of or were near the abuser, had the lowest chance of being cured. Alfred was still with England. Not as a colony, but they were together. That might be enough to lower US's chance of being cured.

"What kind of stress did you put on Alfred?" New York wanted to know. What on earth did England do to have forced the New Yorker's father to switch personalities?

"I didn't do anything!" England stressed the words. "Alfred was the one who asked about the revolution and if I still hated him!"

"He still thinks about that?" Albert cried. Why did Alfred have to like England so much? Alfred must still have some tiny doubt of their relationship. That must have been why US was so stressed when the American nation thought of the revolution. It wasn't everyday that US thought about it, but it came up every few decades or so.

"I thought that he knew." England sadly smiled. "I thought that git knew that I loved him. I was unhappy that he left me, but at least he came back."

Albert looked away from England. He was still holding a few pills in his hand.

"The only way to cure Alfred is to first get him and America to reverse, right?" England asked.

"That would be a good step to take." New York replied. "Make him take the pills." He handed several pills to the Brit. "The prescription says that Alfred must take one per day."

"I'm not too sure if America would take them." England said. "America never liked medicine."

"Can't blame him." New York scrunched up his nose. "They taste so nasty."

"If America is now in US's place." England found it much easier to refer to the normal Alfred as US and the other one as America, since America was not yet united before his victory in the revolution. "Than what happens to US?"

"I don't know." Albert replied. "I hate it how even with this knowledge, we're still uncertain of Alfred's well-being."

"I know." The former empire looked down at the pills on the floor. "I don't like it either. It makes me worry for that git."

"I thought you were going to abandon him after seeing him in that state." New York admitted.

"Why?" England was shocked.

"I thought you hated Alfred back than too." The teen looked shy when he confessed to the English gentleman.

"America broke from me." England said. "But it's still Alfred. I already got over the revolution awhile ago. I still love him. That's just a part of Alfred I'll have to learn to accept."

"I see." New York slowly smiled. _I guess England was right for dad_, he thought.

"We should go back to America." The English nation reminded Albert. "I think we have been keeping him waiting for awhile."

New York checked his watch. A whole hour already? "I guess so."

"Let's go." England announced as began to gather the pills to put them into the bottle.

Albert helped England clean up the small mess. "Remember to give him the pills today!"

"How much help will the pills be?" England asked.

"It should be enough to give Alfred's body a small jumpstart." Albert replied. "It should send small shocks into Alfred's brain cells and make US more aware that another mind has taken over. It will be like pinching someone while they're in a dream."

"I thought you didn't know much about a person's conscious mind." England said.

"It's just a theory." New York said. He stood up to open Alfred's door and holler out. "America! Dad! You want to try my famous submarine sandwiches? I'm warning you! You won't be able to eat more after you're finished with my sandwich!"

England sighed as he too, stood up. He walked out the door to go to the kitchen with New York and America. He took a long gaze at the pills in his hands. When should he try to get America to take these?

Multiple personalities, huh?

* * *

After eating a big lunch of a sub sandwich, America was definitely full. What a huge meal. The sandwich consisted of two big half loaves of bread with tomatoes, lettuces, onions, cheese, salami, mayonnaises, eggs, turkey, and other goodness that was enough to make America run for the bathroom by the end of the meal.

"Do you like my food?" New York popped out of nowhere when America exited from the bathroom.

"It was the best." America beamed.

"Thanks!" New York beamed back. "England?"

"How can you Yankees eat such a big sandwich?" England complained. He only took a small sample of the Superhero (1). Both Alfred and Albert ate a whole sandwich each.

"We just have big appetites!" Albert cheerfully exclaimed.

_More like black hole stomachs_, England dryly thought. He was surrounded by gluttonies Americans!

"Alfred?" England remembered. He felt the pills in his pockets. "Are you still getting those headaches?" He thought of the other pains America had explained the other day, like the American's side, the same spot where the younger nation was shot over two hundred years ago.

"I still have them." Alfred admitted. "I have one right now." He rubbed his head to support his statement. His mind wondered off into voices that seemed slightly familiar. Both of the voices sounded deeper and older than his own.

_We can't walk if you keep doing that. It looks like you're trying to snog me! _

_Snog? You mean a kiss?_

_It's snogging! _

_Heh. Snogging? How cute. _

_Prat._

_Old man. _

_Git._

_Blushing bride._

_What did you call me?_

_Ha, ha._

_AMERICA! _

Where did these thoughts come from? Alfred was frustrated. They didn't feel like they were his thoughts. They felt like they belonged to someone else's.

"Do you want some medicine to cure that?" England broke into America's train of thoughts.

"M-medicine?" Alfred stared at England. "NO!"

"Alfred." England tried to reason out with the boy. "Don't be silly. Take them. It won't hurt. You won't even be able to taste them. They're just pills."

"It's okay." Alfred said. "Really. It's just a stupid headache."

"Don't you want to get rid of the pain?" England looked concern.

"I said I won't!" Now America had a crazed look in his eyes. "I WON'T! I WON'T, I WON'T!" Alfred edged away from England as if he was a scared deer in front of a car's headlights.

"Alfred, calm down." England patted the boy's cheeks. "It's just medicine. I won't give it to you then." He watched America slowly recover from the tantrum.

"Are we doing anything this afternoon?" England quickly switched the topic as though nothing out of the ordinary has just happened.

"Why don't we just stay and chat?" Albert suggested. "It's a bit too late to really go anywhere."

"Are you planning to return to New York?" England asked.

"I'm actually going to stay here, since I came here to help you with the research." New York said. His pale blue eyes read, _I'm going to help you make America take those pills until I succeed. _

England sent a scowl at New York._ Don't overkill yourself, kid. _

_Chillax, _New York gave England a lazy look._ I have the whole plan set up. _

_If you say so…_England looked away to break the silent exchange.

"That sounds nice." America commented. He didn't seem to read the silent conversation between the other two.

"We should talk more," New York nudged America. "Don't you miss your favorite colony?" He sent puppy eyes to the American nation.

"Well, yeah. I guess." America awkwardly replied. "How are Virginia and Massachusetts?"

"Ugh," Albert groaned. "Don't ask about them. They're so troublesome." He rolled his eyes. "Virginia's still acts like she's the queen of England and Massachusetts is still angry at me because I told her that my team was (obviously) better than her's…"

England could not help but smile when he watched America and New York continue with their conversation. Even if this was a different Alfred, Alfred still cared about his states, D.I.D. or not. England felt the bumpy pills in his pockets. When would New York put his plan into action?

* * *

"You know," England told New York. "You didn't have to make dinner. You're the guest."

"I know, but I like to cook." Albert smiled at the British nation.

"You don't have to act so generous." England said.

"I know." New York said. "Besides," He threw a sly grin at England. "I don't want to have pay for the property damage if you were to accidently burn down the house with your cooking."

"Grrr…" England's eyes flared up with fire. Why did everyone make fun of his cooking? His food wasn't _that_ bad, was it?

"Um, Albert?" America's piped into the conversation between the two. "The food tastes a bit odd…" Alfred sniffed at the soup in front of him. The broth had a strange scent…

"Really?" New York raised his eyebrows. He took a short sip from his bowl. "Oh." Albert looked surprised. "I guess it does."

England and America stared at Albert.

The New Yorker scratched his head. "I guess I accidently burnt a part of it while I was cooking."

"I didn't know it was England who taught you how to cook…" Alfred half said jokingly.

England decided to pretend that he didn't here Alfred's side comment. Even the alter thought his cooking sucked… "How can you burn this?" England wondered. "You can't burn soup."

New York ignored the Brit's question and said to America. "Well, just ignore it, it's just a little burnt!" He beamed. "I guess I'll have to be more careful this time." The state walked towards the bathroom. "I'll be excusing myself now."

England stared at Albert. Albert seemed oddly cheery just then. The Englishman took his time finishing his meal. The meal itself was well done, but… The soup tasted fine. It didn't taste like it was burnt; what a strange bizarre excuse from Albert… Or was it just part of the soup that was burned? It was very salty, but this was American food, so what was there to expect? England didn't know why Alfred thought that the food tasted strange. Maybe America wasn't used to eating food with so many flavors. New York did have a tendency of mixing flavors from different cultures to create new meals; some of them didn't end that well…

When England finished eating, he wiped his mouth with a small napkin and went to the guest room. America was in his bedroom reading books. New York was planning to stick around until America returned to his normal self; the state would be sharing rooms with England. England told New York that the American teenager could take the bed, but New York insisted that England could continue to sleep on the bed while the state would remain on the sofa.

"Are you planning to try again?" New York asked England when the Brit stepped into the guest room. Albert was stacking a deck of cards in a neat four by thirteen arrangement on the bedside table next to the sofa he was to sleep in. Each half of the deck of cards was arranged so that one side was red while the other was black.

"I don't think so," England shook his head. He went to the bathroom to wash his hands. "If I ask him again, he'll suspect me."

"That won't do." The state crossed his arms.

"Is it really necessary to keep America in the dark?" England asked as he wiped his hands with a towel. He began to change into his nightclothes. "Shouldn't he be more aware of what's going on and that he has another personality?" One of the important steps of curing D.I.D. was to get the patient to become aware of his other alters or personalities.

"I think America is aware of the other Alfred." New York said. "Because didn't you tell me that he kept asking you questions about the other Alfred? That's a sign that he knows. I don't know it US knows about America."

"Are you saying that it's US that needs to be informed about America?" England stepped out of the bathroom. He had already brushed his teeth. "We don't even know how to reverse the alters to make that happen!"

New York thought out loud. "I'm not too sure if America would even be willing to change roles with US. I'm afraid that he might not be too cooperative with our plot."

"I guess we would have to give him the medicine when his guards are low." England murmured. "I'm afraid that US might possibly disappear forever if America refuses to change roles any sooner."

"Which is why we must quicken the process." Albert said. The state began to shuffle the cards. He was going to make a card tower.

"How long does it take for the pills to take effect?" England asked. He went over to his bed to sit.

New York shrugged and used the black spades to form the base of the cards. "It takes about several hours, I think."

"Sorry for not being able to convince America to take the pills." England apologized. He was also apologizing to US as well for failing to help the American nation.

It looks like the black jacks were stubborn to sit on the red joker. "I didn't expect this to be easy." New York said.

"I'll try again tomorrow." The English nation vowed to himself.

"You should get some rest." Albert told England. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day." The red hearts in Alfred's deck were always perfect stand at the top.

"Right," The former empire said. England would have to come up with more creative ways to lure America into taking those pills.

Just one more card to add to the tower… "You should try giving those to him during dinner, that way, the pills may take effect while Alfred is sleeping." Albert softly advised the English gentleman. "By then, he would be in the RMS stage where his mind is in a dream state."

"I guess that may be when America may make most likely make contact with US's mind." England thought out loud. "New York?" He looked at the state for a reply.

"It looks like the hero can't sleep again." New York nearly sweatdropped when he told this to England. The teen's stack of cards has fallen to the floor.

"Eh?" England stared at Albert.

"Alfred is here." New York pointed to the doorway.

His voice crept into the room. "England? New York?" Alfred's head stuck out. "Can I sneak in? I couldn't sleep again…"

"Was it a movie?" Albert lazily asked. It looks like it wasn't just England who had to deal with Alfred's fear of Japan's horror movies.

America's face went blank. "What's a movie?"

"Eh," New York nearly facepalmed himself. Movies didn't exist yet according, to America's mindset. "Never mind. Was it a book, then?"

America's crying face gave it away.

England sighed. "What book is it now?" How quickly did America read through those books? It was almost frightening of the pace America had for comprehending books. Who knew that Alfred still had a literature side of himself?

"May I see the book?" England kindly asked America. America approached England; his hands shook with fear as he handed over the novel to the former empire.

England stared at the cover of the book. The cover of the book was very old; it had a dull brown hardback cover. England was quite surprised that the book worms have not gotten their jaws around the old yellow pages. What surprised the Brit even more was that the cover was a replacement. Alfred had hired a book repairman to restore the book's condition. England stopped staring at the book's cover to open up the book to the title's page. There were books back than only had their titles written in the insides of the book. He stared at the title's name. _The Strange Case of Dr. Jerkyll and Mr. Hyde_, by Robert Louis Stevenson, published 1886 in London (2).

"What book is that?" New York was curious. He looked over England's shoulder to see the title. That book?

"You seem to enjoy reading horror a lot," England began to sweat bullets. The man attempted to keep his cool. "Don't you Alfred?"

"Yes." America said before adding, "You seemed quite shocked to see me."

It was very strange coincidence that out of all of Alfred's books in his room, America had to choose that peculiar one. A book about a man with a split personality, no less! Did Alfred know that they knew?

"We didn't realize that you were still awake." England admitted honestly. "We weren't expecting you."

How much did America hear? England mentally panicked. Did America know that they were plotting to shove some pills down the alter's throat? Did America really know that he was just an alternate personality of US that was created out of a war? England wondered if US knew about America. US has had D.I.D. for quite a while now, surely he would have been aware. Why else would he had confronted the doctor when the American nation began to recognize the symptoms? Did US really have that much doubt in US and England's relationship that it was enough to create another mind?

"You seemed to be still awake," Alfred quietly said. His dull eyes gave away nothing to the other two in the room. "So I thought that I would join so that I won't feel lonely anymore."

England looked at Albert. The New Yorker remained silent. It seemed that the state had no words to say. If New York was just as shocked as England was, he wasn't making it obvious.

"It's a book." The former empire calmly told Alfred. "You won't get nightmares."

"Can I still sleep with you?" America asked. "I don't want to feel lonely again…"

"Well," England tried to find an excuse. "Can you stand us snoring? I think New York is a bit of a heavy sleeper." He tried to joke. England thought of the times US complained to the Brit about New York's tendency of falling asleep for long periods of time due to overworking.

New York was oddly silent the whole time England and America talked. It was as if the state was an outsider to their conversation.

"I don't mind!" America begged. "Please!" He put his hands together. "I won't be an annoyance!" Alfred's big blue eyes watered as he pleaded.

"I guess you can." Albert broke the silence. It was starting to become obvious that he and England were trying to hide something. They had no choice but to give in to America's wishes. It looks like the conversation of plans between England and New York would be done for today.

"See!" Alfred exclaimed. "New York said yes!"

"We don't have another bed do we?" Albert asked to no one in particular.

"Alfred can share beds with me." England told the New Yorker. Alfred had already done that a few days ago.

America beamed and hugged England. "Thanks England!"

That night, the conversation between England and New York dropped. They could not talk more about Alfred's condition. Not when America was clinging to England. New York saw how America stubbornly clutched his arms around England, even when the American nation was asleep. Alfred's fingers dug into the English nation's clothes; he was so possessive.

Albert tried several times to get America's grip to release England, but it was no use. America was using Alfred's body, which was about five times of Albert's strength. New York's strength was nothing against America's. Albert could not help but hope that things would soon return back to normal.

* * *

The next day, New York was serving dinner again. After England had attempted to make breakfast that morning, or what looked like breakfast, it looked like New York and America were ready to hurl out the window.

"It's not my bloody fault that you two have never learned to appreciate English food." England huffed.

"What the hell was the black thing anyway?" New York scratched his head. "It looked like shit!" The state's comment resulted in having a scone thrown at him.

"That shit." England sarcastically replied. "Is blood pudding!" Leave it to England to be serving something called blood pudding. This was coming from the same nation whose cuisine included kidney pie and spotted dick, although England did make good biscuits…

That night, they had a meal consisted of curry. There were vegetables and spices of all sorts flung into the mix. The soft exotic smell floated in the kitchen.

"America?" England looked up from his meal. "Aren't you going to eat your meal?" What was wrong with Alfred today? The boy spent the whole day giving weird looks at England while the Brit was comparing his research notes with New York.

"It's just that this food looks weird." America poked his meal with a spoon.

"Curry is a bit strange when you first try it." England admitted, but he remembered how he fell in love with the exotic food when it first hit his taste buds. "It's a little spicy, for first timers, but it's an interesting meal. You won't regret eating it."

"Is it that good?" Alfred asked. He took a few sips. America made a face. "I don't like the way this taste…"

"It was bit too spicy for you?" England guessed.

"No," America shook his head. "That's not it. It tastes funny. It tastes bitter."

"Don't be ridiculous!" The Englishman exclaimed. "Curry can't taste bitter! It's supposed to be spicy!"

America bit his lips. "Yesterday's food tasted the same…"

"It did?" England thought, was there something wrong with America's taste buds?

"I think it's just my food that tastes like this." America shoved his bowl away from him. "Your food tastes normal."

"You tried my food?" England shouted.

"I think I'm done eating for today." America stood up and shoved his chair in. The food…

"Alfred?" New York looked at his father. "You should finish eating your food. It will get cold." Alfred was already more than half way through with the curry.

"That's okay." Alfred said. "I think I'm full."

"You usually eat more than this." Albert commented.

"I guess I'm not hungry today." America admitted.

"Do you at least want to try the dessert?" New York asked Alfred. "We have apple pie today."

"I will not. I really am full." The alter insisted. They were everywhere…

"Are you sure?" New York was concern.

"Yes! I'm sure!" Alfred exclaimed. They were everywhere…

"America?" England stared at the American nation. "You don't have to shout. New York is just worried about you. You're making me worry too."

"Don't give me that crap!" Alfred slammed his fist into the table. The table broke into two; the food crashed onto the floor. The curry sauce poured down like a waterfall. None of the immortal men in the room make any signs of cleaning up the mess.

"Alfred!" England scolded America. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You keep giving me crap!" America exclaimed. "You keep poisoning my food!" He cried.

"Alfred?" England stared at the American boy who was in rage.

He ran over to tackle England, knocking the Englishman over on his back. "Stop poisoning me!" America cried again. "Why do you have to keep putting weird stuff in my food?"

"America!" England tried to throw off the boy. "Stop attacking me! America!"

"Stop poisoning me!" Alfred accused his former brother.

"I didn't poison you!" The Brit stressed.

"Alfred! That's enough!" New York stepped in to help lift America off of England. Alfred's body was so heavy. The state seized America by the arms to stop the American nation from harming England any further.

"It was him who poisoned the food!" Alfred insisted.

"I was the one who cooked the food." Albert said.

"Let go of me!" America broke off from New York's embrace; New York howled in pain.

"New York!" England stood up. "What's wrong?" He saw the New Yorker clutch his right arm.

"I think Alfred broke my right arm." Albert grinded his teeth. New York heard a small snap when America broke his right arm; he felt the brief tug in his tendons before realizing the sensation of the pain. America was really strong. He didn't seem to understand how to control his strength.

America stopped and froze when he realized the damage he has done. "Albert, I…"

"I'll drive you to the hospital." England said. It wasn't an offer, it was a demand.

"No, that's fine." New York said. "I can just heal."

"You shouldn't be moving around so much with that arm." The Brit scolded the teen. "Go to the hospital. The most they could do is to sooth the pain."

"I'll be fine one my own." Albert insisted. "You need to take care of Alfred. Alfred's more important than me! It's just a broken bone! I'll endure it!"

"I'm sorry," America cried. "I didn't mean to do that," He felt that his words were worthless at times like this. Sorry didn't feel like it was enough. It wouldn't sew New York back into one piece. "I'm sorry!" In shame, Alfred ran into his room to shelter himself from his own destruction.

"Alfred!" England called out. What was he to do? He had an emotionally unstable man and a teenager who needed to get to the hospital.

"Leave him alone." Albert told England. "He'll get better."

"What do you mean?" England asked.

"I added the pills into Alfred's meals." The American teen admitted. "It was for his own good. I knew that he wouldn't accept your help with the pills."

"And you didn't tell me?" The Brit was now angry at the New Yorker for hiding so much.

"Alfred's might have dragged out the information from you." Albert made up the excuse. "You have a soft spot for him. It wouldn't take that much effect to find information from you. You trust him too much."

"Go." England pointed to the front door. "Just go." He didn't know what to feel anymore. Too much has happened since yesterday. It was too much to take in all at once.

"I will probably return in a few hours." Albert said.

The moment New York showed his face, all England has seen was bad news and confusion, or a combination of both. England's opinion of the state was somewhere between grateful for knowing what was wrong with Alfred, and hatred for hiding so many ideas and plots from view.

"It won't take that long for me to recover." Albert said. "I'm sorry for causing so much stress for you and Alfred." At those words, he stepped outside the house.

"I guess there's no cab in this area," New York spoke out loud. "I guess I'll call West." He started to dial West Virginia's cell phone number.

"Isn't Virginia staying with him?" England asked. He watched the New Yorker wait for response from the phone.

New York bit his lips. "Yes." Virginia was staying at West Virginia's house to deal with Alfred's other papers. England and Virginia were similar in more ways than one, stern and stiff, and hot-tempered. Why couldn't Virginia just go back home to tormenting Maryland?

The phone finally answered. "Wesley?" New York looked at no one. "Can you take me to the hospital?"

West Virginia must have sounded annoyed, because New York said, "I think I broke my arm. Can you check the news to see the death rate?"

There was small cluster of noise from the phone. "Really?" Albert looked concern. "Are you sure?" How many people had died because of that? England never found out. "I just need a brace for few hours before it recovers."

West Virginia sighed on the other side of the phone. "Thanks for the ride," New York thanked his brother. "I'm at Alfred's West Virginia house."

"Get better." That was all England could muster out when Albert hung out his phone.

"Thanks." Albert stared at the empty driveway.

"How long will it take for West Virginia to come?" England asked.

"He doesn't live that far from here." The teen replied. "He'll probably be here in about ten minutes."

"Hm." England said.

"I'm sorry for causing so much confusion for you." New York apologized. "It was foolish of me to plan this out without talking to you about it."

_Damn right it was!_ England wanted to shout.

"I don't know if I gave Alfred enough medicine to take much effect." Albert continued. "Please look after Alfred while I'm gone."

"I will," England replied. How could he not care for Alfred?

"Keep giving him the pills." Albert said. "You'll have to get creative now that he knows that I have possibly added medicine in his liquid food. He blamed you, but I think after what I said, he probably guessed that it was me would added the chemicals in his meals."

"What if the medicine doesn't work?" England asked.

"If Alfred loses control," The state grabbed a sheet of paper. "Call this number." New York wrote down the number on a sheet of paper with his capable hand and handed it to England.

"What is this?" The English gentleman stared at the numbers.

"This is Alfred's doctor." New York told the English nation. "If he isn't there, talk to his secretary and tell her that you're the family of Alfred."

"I guess you are good use after all." England tried to say this lightly.

"I'm not a useless person." Albert claimed.

"I think your ride is here." The former empire said.

"Oh." New York waved at the car at the front of the house. "Yo! Wesley! I'm over here!"

New York ran to the car. "About time you got here!" He turned his head to England. "You should go back to the house. Alfred might need you."

England smiled. "Right." He wasn't too eager to get back to Alfred.

The Englishman went back into the house. After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, England finally went to Alfred's room to check on the America.

England stared at Alfred's boyish features. Alfred's golden blond head puffed out like feathers. His eyelids were closed and the boy was slowly breathing in and out. US really was a good looking man, no doubt about it. He was ridiculously strong and had the heart of a child at times. Alfred was fast asleep.

Would the medicine really take effect? Or would England have to resort to calling the hospital? He didn't want to think of dragging Alfred into a small white room full of doctors and nurses.

England put his hand on Alfred's forehead. For once, America fell asleep in his own room. "Get well Alfred." The English nation wasn't too sure which Alfred he was referring to, US or America? He wondered what was going on in the American nation's mind.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – These sandwiches have many nicknames, like the Sub, the Submarine, the Superhero, etc. What does your region call sub sandwiches?

(2) –_ The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, a tale where a man with two different minds occupy in his head. A horror that would eventually become the media's point of view about those with D.I.D. The book was written by a Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson and was published in 1886. The book has been edited and republished many times since then after gaining popularity.

* * *

**Notes: **A long chapter with explanations, New York forcing pills into America's food, Alfred finding out and throwing a fit, and New York broke his right arm. So many times in the past several chapters, I have slapped hints and evidence of Alfred not being all there, if you mind my pun. Like the flashbacks, the mood swings, hearing voices from the other personality's point of view, and the headaches. I literally spelled it out at times, like the alternated _Alice in Wonderland_ quote in chapter 9: "But I don't want to be among mad people." Alice said. "Oh, but you can't help it that we're all mad here." Said the cat. "I'm mad. You're mad." I was actually surprised that nobody noticed or pointed that out.

US: I don't think this is what the readers had in mind.

RS: Not at all. –covers her face-

US: What's wrong?

RS: I'm not too sure how the readers would take this. They thought this was going to be a time traveling fic filled with magic and crap.

US: You liked the idea of making it seem time traveling related and misleading the readers with assumptions.

RS: I know, but are the readers okay with it? I did stress the fact that you couldn't time travel. So many times.

US: -shrugs- They were probably hoping for a loophole.

RS: I suppose so. –cries- I just wanted to make this story unpredictable!

US: Didn't you plan out the whole concept of this story, I don't know, since Christmas morning?

RS: Yes. I already knew since day one that Alfred wouldn't actually time travel, but actually have some sort of personality disorder.

US: Ugh. We're going to get flames. Flames I'm telling you!

RS: TAT I don't want flames! I spent months developing that plot! Do you know how many times my head had to replay multiple parts of the story in order to get that natural feel while I spent time taking walks, showers, and hours of listening to music? I don't want my writing career to crash! This year, I have just returned from a 2 1/2 years of writer's block! TT_TT

US: Wait for the reviews before you start crying (and for the flames)!

RS: -sniff- -more crying-

* * *

**Please review this chapter. –cries- Just don't sent me flames and tell me that I did an ass pull and never warned you, because I did add plenty of hints and evidence that this was going to happen. It's just that most readers never actually stop to look and notice the hints. Now excuse me while I cry out my tears. -run away and hides- **


	15. Chapter 15: Distortion

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 15: Distortion**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: To be or not to be. That is the question. The answer thy shall receive would to not to be. Hetalia I own not. Mine head shakes at its claim of this series.

Warning:  Just to warn you, the future chapters will start to get _really_ long.

* * *

***past***

"We finally made it!" US announced when he and England had finally arrived at their destination. There was a series of cheers from the soldiers behind them. The men caught the sight of the harbor town from the distance.

The high perched church bell struck eight to announce that the day has anew and that it was time to get up and work. Young children sprung across the street to rush to school, carrying school books in one hand and a few held apples in the other hand. Occasionally, one of the mothers would be seen rushing out to hand something over to one of her children who have forgotten his stuff, shaking her heads and chiding at the child for his forgetfulness. The older children chose to walk in a slower pace to get to work; some had to work as apprentices at the printing company or for the local town's blacksmith.

The town itself was very beautiful. Well. At least it was beautiful to the soldiers' eyes since it has been awhile since they have last been near a human settlement. It might have been the closest thing to home. Small buildings lined up where its inhabitants lived. Shops of all kind stood in small districts. Both color and more modest signs advertised their specialties, shouting out to the world to come to their store. The streets smelled of smoke from people's homes and of manure. A soft scent of bread could be recognized in the mixture of familiar smells; it was probably from the local bakery. Old shopkeepers could be seen turning their signs over to inform their customers that they were open. There were pigs spotted running about in the streets, being chased by their owners.

In the town, the group split into smaller groups. Some went to the bar; others went to find something to eat, while those like England and US just hung around the harbor area to talk a little before departing to their home towns.

England was relieved. He and US were walking down one of the many streets of the town. "I can't believe it has been nearly a week since the war ended." A week since he had met US.

"I know." US scratched his head. "It feels longer than that, didn't it?"

"Yeah." The Englishman gazed at the light wispy clouds in the bright blue sky. A wisp of wind flew the Englishman's messy hair; England shivered.

"Are you cold?" Alfred asked.

"Isn't it a bit obvious?" England managed to remain sarcastic, even when shivering. "It's bloody September!"

"It's not that cold." Alfred tilted his head.

"Not all of us could be a muscular freak like you." The Englishman mumbled.

US ignored England's last comment. "When is your ship departing?" The American nation asked.

"The General said that we'll be leaving by the afternoon." England said; the man wore a fierce look as he glanced at the American nation. He only had a few hours left to spend with Alfred.

"I guess we don't have much time left do we?" Alfred thought.

"No." England looked away; he pulled up the zipper (1) of his coat. "I'm afraid we don't."

Alfred stared at him.

"What are you looking at?" The empire fumed. "Stop gawking at me!"

"Why do you have zippers on your clothes?" US kept staring at the Englishman's clothes. Zippers didn't exist yet. They weren't supposed to exist yet.

"What are you talking about?" England asked. "What's a zipper? What sort of nonsense is this?"

US looked at England again. "But…but I thought…" The coat of the empire's clothes went back to normal. The coat had no sign of ever having a zipper.

"America, stop pretending you're seeing things." England glared at Alfred. "Let's go somewhere."

"Do you want to look around the town?" US offered.

"Not the pub?" England asked. He glanced at the nearby bar behind them.

"Unless you want to get drunk like those guys." Alfred pointed to the sorrowful men who could be heard screaming out curses and insults of despair from inside the bar.

"I guess not. I'm don't have very good tolerance." England admitted. This was very ironic because the empire himself was once a pirate who roamed the seven seas and drank rum seven days a week. Strange how fate decided to make the English nation lose his tolerance.

"Where shall we go, then?" Alfred asked. He has been to this town before. The American nation didn't live here, but he has stopped here a few times. "Do you want to start at here? We can work our way around the town to make a circle."

"Sure." England said.

* * *

Their first stop was at the bakery. Alfred bought a few loaves of bread for him and England to eat for their breakfast. The baker was happy to supply them with food. Along with bread, they bought sweet French pain au chocolat (2) since US liked to eat sweet food.

"I can't believe you like eating the frog's food." England mumbled as he took stuffed the pastries along with the loaves into his bag. They stared at the shop to look at more food.

"Are you jealous?" US wagged his eyebrow at the bushy eyebrow nation.

The Englishman blushed. "Maybe a little…" The English nation started to nibble on the pain au chocolat in attempt to distract himself from getting himself embarrassed.

"Huh?" Alfred was surprised of England's honesty.

England explained. "You don't eat enjoy eating my food anymore." He thought of the other day when he caught US vomiting his food because it was rabbit.

"That's not true." Alfred told his former brother; he put his hand on England's left shoulder for comfort. "It was just then." The American must have read England's mind about the rabbit incident.

"You said that you lied that you liked my food." The empire flustered. _What a strange pastry that is_, England thought when he stared at the food. It was a round white ball that was twisted at the top (3).

"I thought you knew that I was just upset." US stared at England. "I didn't mean that."

"I took your word for it." England replied. He was still staring at the strange bun in the shop. What was that thing?

Alfred noticed of England's distraction. "What are you looking at, England?"

"What is that?" England pointed to the bun.

"That?" The American man blinked. It looked familiar. In fact, he saw it at every world summit meeting. "That's baozi."

Wait. Baozi? In America? In 1783?

"Do you want to buy that?" The baker asked the two of them.

Before England could open his mouth, US jumped in. "It's okay. I think we're done." He took England by the hand and dragged him out of the shop. "Let's go, England."

"Don't drag me again!" England cried.

"What was that for?" US whined. England has smacked him in the head again.

"For dragging me like that!" The empire huffed. "Running out the store like that!" He glared at Alfred. England didn't enjoy being bossed around by others. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to be the one in charge, not being someone's underling.

"Sorry…" Alfred shook his head. Was he imagining things? But there was no doubt about it. That food. It was definitely one of China's cuisines. What on Earth was it doing here in 1783?

"That was an odd looking pastry." England commented.

"You saw it?" Alfred's hopes went high.

"It was a roll and it was filled with chocolate! It was a French pastry!" England declared.

US almost did a facepalm. He thought England saw it. Apparently, England was still talking about the pain au chocolat. Once again, they were walking in the streets.

England's hard expression softened. "Sorry for not being able to help you return back to your time." The English empire looked apologetic to the American nation.

"No. It's alright." Alfred told him. "It's not your fault." Although it would have been nice to return home.

"You seem to be lax about this." England commented.

"What am I to do?" Alfred shrugged. "I'm sure things will be fine."

The English soldier stared at Alfred. "Things will be fine?"

"I told you." US insisted. "Things will be alright. I'll somehow make it through."

England glared at US. "How is that alright?" England asked the American man. How could he remain so calm? It irritated the empire. "How can you be so damn relaxed?"

"England?"

"Alfred." The Englishman looked so tense. "Listen to me. How much do you want to go home? Do you really want to go back to your time? Or do you want to be stuck here in this wretched town for the rest of your life and disappear from your time's existence?"

"Of course I want to get back!" Alfred exclaimed. "I don't belong here!"

US admitted that he missed the twenty first century. He wasn't used to the slower pace of the late eighteenth century. In the modern day, it would take less than a day to reach the town. In the past, everything was slower. Yet everything felt more peaceful. The sluggish pace allowed the American to have more time to think over everything he had ever done.

"Is that so?" England huffed. "The way you act doesn't seem to match with your words."

"I really do want to go back home!"

"If you wanted to go back home. You wouldn't have been here to begin with!" England exclaimed.

"What makes you think that I had the chose?" Alfred asked. "How would you know?" He cried out.

"_Alfred." England tried to reason out with the boy. "Don't be silly. Take them. It won't hurt. You won't even be able to taste them. They're just pills." _

"_It's okay." Alfred said. "Really. It's just a stupid headache." _

"_Don't you want to get rid of the pain?" England sounded concern. _

"_I said I won't! I WON'T! I WON'T, I WON'T!" _

"Ugh!" The American felt sudden pain sharply jab him inside his skull. US slammed his hand against his forehead. Those voices! Again! They kept coming up in his mind! Their voices sounded so clear in his head! Why did they have to come back? He thought that they have disappeared for good. Why now?

"Alfred?" England stared at the American in pain.

"Let me go." Alfred gasped out. "Let me go somewhere for some fresh air…" He ran out of the English empire's sight.

"Where are you going?" England shouted out. "Alfred?"

* * *

US ran to the other side of the town in search of peace. He didn't notice the stares from the townspeople or the fluttering leaves that flew around him when he ran through the autumn day. The voices continued to echo in his mind, vibrating continuously with no sights of stopping.

"_You know," England told New York. "You didn't have to make dinner. You're the guest."_

"_I know." New York said. "Besides, I don't want to have pay for the property damage if you were to accidently burn down the house with your cooking." _

"_Um, Albert?" America's piped into the conversation between the two. "The food tastes a bit odd…" _

"_Really?" New York said. "Oh." The state sounded surprised. "I guess it does." _

"_I guess I accidently burnt a part of it while I was cooking." _

"_I didn't know it was England who taught you how to cook…" Alfred half said jokingly. _

"_How can you burn this?" England wondered. "You can't burn soup." _

_New York ignored the Brit's question and said to America. "Well, just ignore it, it's just a little burnt!" _

US finally stopped to look at his surroundings; he was down on his knees. Where was he? He groaned. He didn't know where he was. All he could see was the brown dirty ground his knees were kneeling on. Alfred stared at his hands; they were quite filthy from the run. He wasn't the clumsiest person on earth, but he did manage to trip a few times while running off because he didn't pay much attention to his environment. US looked up from the ground to see that there was a big building in front of him. The walls of the structure were made of bricks, giving the building a warm look. The Earth colored roofs were pointed upward towards the sky; the building's door was opened wide to allow the public in. The place was so quiet.

The building began to shake. US jerked at the sudden movement, but couldn't find the energy to stand up. The clock tower was ringing again. The bells' chimes rang in Alfred's ears. He realized. He was in front of a school. Alfred stared at the direction where the clock might have been. The clock tower was next to the church. The church must be nearby. The small school building continued to vibrate underneath the clock's spell.

The American slowly stood up and hesitantly stepped into the building. He glanced at the side. It looked as though the children have been out to lunch, because the building appeared to be empty. The schoolroom itself was very small. It was a tiny room that had a dozen rows of wooden benches for the students. Books bind by belts or stuffed into bags were carelessly tossed beneath the benches were the students sat. Small blackboards were stacked in the back of the room; there was still writing on some of them. In the front of the room was a small stand for the teacher; Alfred spied a few apples sitting at the teacher's desk. The humble schoolhouse gave US a wary feeling. The mess made him even more exhausted.

US looked at one of the books left behind by one of the students. He opened the book. The book was talking about the ABCs, explaining each letter with patience and reference to everyday life. However, when US reached to the third page, something was wrong. The page was blurry. The words were jumbled into a chaotic jumble that didn't make any sense. It looked like someone who taken a book and has rearranged the letters into an alien language. Was the book defected? It seemed rather strange of the printer to be so careless.

Frustrated with the strange seeing, Alfred took out another book to see if there was any difference. He only saw the same result. The second book was even worse than the first. The letters were flipped upside down. Some of the letters didn't even look like they belonged to the English alphabet. Alfred sighed. He looked at the benches. At least he could have something to sit on. When the American man bent down to sit, he fell down on his bottom. He went straight through the seat! Alfred thought he saw big giant letters and numbers floating around the classroom. Where the hell was he? This couldn't be real!

"Where am I?" Alfred asked himself. "What world am I in? This world can't be real. It's all in my head."

"I see that you finally realized the truth." England appeared at the doorway. The empire had a distant look in his dark green eyes.

"England?" US stared at the empire. "How did you know where to find me?"

England ignored the American. "You said that you came here by no chose." He gave US a cold look. "That is not true."

Alfred could not find his voice.

England picked up the schoolbook Alfred dropped. "There is always a chose in where you would like to go." He casually flipped through the child's book. "This is quite an interesting book."

Alfred stared at England. The Englishman was very calm.

England helped US up. "In topic of destination, my trip home will be soon. Shall we return to the docks?" He looked at Alfred with the same tone of indifference.

"Y-yes." For once, Alfred stuttered under England's presence. He and England walked out of the room; Alfred took one last look at the classroom. Was the rest of this town like that too? When they arrived to the town, everything seemed so normal. Everything appeared to be in one piece. What was going on here?

* * *

While they continued to walk to the harbor, England continued to talk. "It's been only a week since we have met. Strange isn't it?"

"I suppose it was." US agreed. It was strange. That he was able to talk to England from the past. "Don't you have a ride to catch?" US spouted out. He was so desperate to end the conversation.

"Don't think that will interrupt our talk." The English nation said. "Nothing will stop our conversation." Alfred was sure that England was right.

"It's been nice meeting you at last." The English empire told the American man. "I'm glad I got to know you." US suspected that England was trying to keep the conversation normal and casual, which seemed very hard to do because this world was anything but normal.

"It has only been a few days," Alfred said. "How can you already make assumptions about me?" Wasn't England just giving him cold looks awhile ago?"

"Please Alfred." England said. "We only have about an hour left before my departure. Please try and make this a pleasure ending."

"It's only a few days." The American repeated.

"Yet you feel close with me?" England guessed.

"Yes." Alfred said. "Why is this so?"

England stopped walking to turn to US. "Alfred. Remember what I said earlier? That we all have choices in life? Choices of where to go and where to end in? I told you. We all have choices. You were sent here for a reason."

England gazed at the Atlantic Ocean that was stretched across the horizon of the harbor. The cerulean sea ran outward in a seemingly everlasting peak. Looking further to the shore laid masses of boats and ships of all sizes. The great sea masses reached up to the skies with their proud flags waving.

The Englishman looked back at US and took out a floating number; it was the number zero. Alfred gawked at the number that came out of nowhere. Where had England gotten that? What was it with these floating numbers?

"You have the power to control your life. More than you think." England told the American man. He twisted the zero; Alfred heard the number squeak in protest. "People say they have no choice, but I believe that there is always a chose." The black number was now twisted that it was shaped like the number eight.

"But I don't know how I got here!" Alfred exclaimed. "I don't even know if this is all real! For all I know, all of this is in my head!"

England smirked. "That's one thing we got established, didn't we?" The sky roared with thunder. The once white clouds turned grey; the dark heads threatened the world of sending lightning to the earth. The ocean's waves began to pick up its pace, turning from light cerulean blue to a dull shade of grey.

"What's going on? What the hell just happened?" The American man panicked.

"That's the first thing we need to make it clear, wasn't it?" The Englishman's grin widened. "First. You need to realize that this world isn't real." He looked at US. "This world doesn't exist. Do you know why you're here?"

"I fainted." Alfred said. "I fainted. My head was woozy."

"You don't remember anything else?" England raised his thick brows. "Do you remember how you got that?" The older nation pointed to the American's side. US felt the Englishman's hard fingers pressed against the sore spot.

Alfred thought of the guilt and pain he felt. Every time when he thought of the revolution. When he looked at Arthur on July fourth; knowing that the English nation was in pain for the American's break. The pain that was as sharp as the shot of a bullet. The pain that pierced through his flesh.

"It's just a shot from a soldier." US said. He didn't want to think of the scar that would remain there for the rest of his life. "It was by one of your men."

US gave England a strange look. "Don't tell me that I'm here because of that."

"You keep feeling guilty when you see my face." England sadly smiled at Alfred. "Don't you?"

"I…" Alfred looked away.

"Well cut it out!" The empire snapped at US. He watched the American flinched. "I don't need your pity! I don't want to hear any more of that crap!"

England huffed. "Why must you keep dwelling in the past? The past is over! There's no point in thinking about it if it stops your will to go on with life! The real England wouldn't want to see you like this!"

"How do you know?" The younger nation cried. "How do you know what Arthur would think? How do you know if Arthur forgives me? If this is all in my head, doesn't that mean that you're not real either?"

"America." The Englishman warily said. "I am only England because I am made up of your memories of England from this time period. I am as accurate to England's actually personality and thoughts as you remembered me to be. I am only telling you this because I mean it. I really do forgive you. I'm sure the real England would say the same thing. I am real. I am just a fragment of your memory that is here to serve its purpose."

"Your purpose?" Alfred echoed England's words.

"Your mind created this world," England explained. "As a place for you to shelter yourself from reality. Like a dream world. A defense mechanism of doubt and stress." The empire tossed the twisted number away. "This world was created based on your memories of a time period where things are slower, because you wanted to go back to an era where everything was simpler. This world's structure is controlled by your thoughts and desires."

"While you are locked up in this world, another personality takes your place. The alter." The empire continued. "That personality was supposedly a younger version of you with only the memories of before the revolution, but because of your constant reliance of this dream world, that alter has started to have a personality of its own. Both of you get difference experience that even shapes you two as almost different people."

"Now that I think about," Alfred admitted. "I do get times when I don't remember anything for a few days…" He thought of the pills that have finally stopped the symptoms in 1980.

"The pills helped." England read US's mind. "But pills aren't enough. You need to talk to the real England. You need to understand that you are not alone in this world. Talk to him! Have some faith in him!" He lightly chided the American man.

"When you talked to me the other day of having faith in the real England," Alfred said. "I believed you. Because I thought that you were England. What if I'm only telling myself this to please myself?"

"What if you're just making up excuses so that you won't have to talk?" England argued back. "You'll never know until you ask Arthur, will you?"

"You're still keeping that shape." Alfred referred to the empire retaining England's face.

"I'm still England." England said. "I'm just him from your memory. That doesn't make me necessarily fake."

"I remember being here before." Alfred said. "During the other times. When I woke up. I was always left with no memory of what happened during my absence. Will this happen again? Will I come back to this world?"

England paused before telling Alfred, "This place. This world. You have used this place too much. You have been here too long. It has been a nearly a week since you have been here. This place has been standing for awhile; however this place cannot last forever. It has its limits. It's going to fall apart. You will have to get out of here soon or you may disappear forever. Then you will be stuck as nothing but a deranged memory with no purpose. Your alter might become the dominant personality if you don't watch out."

"So that's how this might end, huh?" US gave out an eerie chuckle.

"This is no laughing manner." The empire frowned.

Alfred couldn't believe it that the England in his mind was still fussy. He stopped laughing. "I have never met my other self." US admitted. "I know I have D.I.D., but I don't know what my alter acts like or what even what he sounds like."

England remained quiet. Alfred continued. "I think those voices in my head… I think I heard him in the other side."

_Why does England hate me? _

_What does he think he's doing trying to put me back into US's mind? _

_Am I fake? _

The voice asked the same questions over and over again. The words bounced off the dark sky.

"It's the alter." England announced.

"You heard that?" US was surprised.

"I heard it." The English empire replied.

"How am I supposed to get out here?" Alfred asked. "Thanks for telling me where I am, but how am I supposed to leave this world?"

"Well." England said. "How do you wake yourself up?"

"I…" Alfred stopped to think. He heard the voice so loud and clear. Apparently, England heard it too. Did this mean that the other Alfred could hear him too?

"You better come up with a quick answer." The empire told US. You're running out of time."

"England?" Alfred looked at his former guardian in panic.

"Alfred, we don't have time. I may have to leave soon." The wind started to pick up its pace.

"You can't leave me!" US cried out. "You still haven't told me how to get out of here! I thought you said I had a chose in this!" His hands reached out in desperation to the Englishman; England remained out of his reach.

"You do have a chose in this." England told him. "You have already decided that you wanted to leave this world. That is only half of the battle. Now you must do the rest of the part on your own."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" The American choked on his tears. "What must I do?"

"You want to leave this place, but your alter may not want to come back here. I'm afraid he has seemed to have grown too fond of the real world." The empire explained to the American man.

"This is where he lives?" Alfred was in awe. America lived in this fantasy world the whole time he was dormant?

"He was locked up in your conscious mind," England replied. "Unlike you, he is not always active in this world. There are times when he remains just a memory floating around."

"How am I even supposed to meet him?" Alfred asked. "Even if he did heard my thoughts, would that be enough to bring him here?"

"I don't think your thoughts may be strong enough." England said. "We will need something powerful to wake up that conscious part of you."

"What are you planning to do?" Alfred asked the Englishman.

The English nation closed his eyes. "I'm going to shoot you." England said.

Alfred blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Once again, England explained the details. "The younger Alfred switched because one of my men 'shot' him in his memories. This happened because from the outside world, you were in such stress that must have triggered this chain event. This stress could be traced from constant containment of your conflicting thoughts." He looked so grave. "Your inner conscious mind is chaos. You're still doubtful of whether Arthur still loves you as he did before the war. Shooting you again might help; it's the same way you arrived here. Perhaps it's the way to exit too."

"So you're going to shoot me again." Alfred said. He closed his eyes in tiredness. "Are you sure this will work?"

"This may work." Even England sounded a bit doubtful. "Hopefully, when I shoot you, the emotions you release might be powerful enough to waken your mind. The problem is, the other Alfred will probably put up quite a fight when he becomes aware of your existence. He doesn't seem eager to come back here as a prisoner in your mind."

"That's what you meant when you said that I had a choice, wasn't it?" Alfred asked England. "No matter what others do for me, in the end, only I can make the chose to return."

"I'm glad you see that now." England smiled. "I did raise you right."

"Well," US grinned back. He spread out his arms. "Give me your best shot!"

England rolled back his sleeves. "I hope you don't mind this." As England said this, the empire began to glow; soft light rippled around his body, picking up the Englishman off of his feet.

Once again, the empire closed his eyes and crossed his arms; the wind and sea roared beneath him. England began to softly chant a long continuous verse of what sounded like Latin. Thunder and lightning lit up and struck around the man. Never hitting the chanting man under the spell. Surrounding light shone bright, nearly blinding Alfred. Alfred had to cover his face with his hands. Taking small peaks through his hands, Alfred saw giant wings sprouted out of the Englishman's back, ripping through the man's redcoat uniform. US heard the clothes shred into bits, scattering into the endless ocean beneath him. The wings spread out before folding back to cover the English nation's body; enveloping the man in a feathery chrysalises.

When the transformation was over, the light slowly faded away. The wind gently brought England back to the ground. As he descended down, his wings retracted back, reviewing the Englishman to be adorned in a virgin white toga that went down to his knees. The nation crowned a golden halo hovering above his light ashy head that carried a similar shine as the previous light did. The only thing that kept England recognizable was his messy blond ashy hair and his dark greens eyes that were accompanied with his infamous thick eyebrows.

"England?" US looked surprised. "Is that you?" He didn't think that he was going to see the Englishman in that form again. England's stern look didn't match his seemingly kinky attire.

The empire scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. "It's Britannia Angel."

"You'll still be England." Alfred smiled.

"Can you stop chatting?" England glanced at the sky. The sun was almost at its highest peak. "Afternoon is arriving soon. We need to get on to business."

Alfred instantly remembered why England was in this form. "Right!" He couldn't help but continue to stare at England's angelic form. "I thought you were going to shoot me."

"Not with a musket." Said the angel.

The English angel's hands twirled around. Alfred realized that England's hands gestures were forming a bow and arrow in the angel's hands. The bow and arrow was not made of wood, but was made of light and energy. The bright blue light of the arrow shone as bright as the novice stars of the Milky Way.

"You're going to shoot me with that?" Alfred stared at the glowing bow and arrow. He had never seen a sight like this. The American thought of the star wand he found in England's house while going through the English gentlemen's stuff.

"Yes." England said seriously.

"Should I move?" US asked.

"No." England replied. "I'll aim. You just stand there." He gave US a kind look. "Don't look so nervous. You'll get to meet the other Arthur again."

"I'm not nervous." Alfred honestly said. "I'm just sad to see you leave."

The angel sadly smiled. "I'll miss you too." He paused before saying. "I'm sure Arthur misses you more than I will."

"I love you both. You're both England." Alfred chuckled. "You have both been so patient with me."

"It was nothing," England blushed.

"I guess we should get going." Alfred said.

"Yeah." England replied back.

The angel broad up his shoulders and floated off the deck of the harbor. Once again, England adjusted the length of his bow. His wings fluttered in the windy gust.

"Try not to flinch." The English angel warned Alfred. He bent the arrow back. "This will only last a few moments."

At his words, the man released the arrow. The arrow's path had remnants of light trailing behind it. The sharp object torpedoed against the protesting blowing winds, spiraling towards the American man. In a matter of seconds, the arrow struck directly at Alfred's heart. The American nation collapsed.

"Eng-land!" Alfred choked out. He could not feel the pain of the arrow. In fact, it was quite the opposite. US didn't feel anything at all.

England landed lightly in front of Alfred; his wings folded back again. "Good luck with facing with the other Alfred." The Englishman said. "You will need it."

"Thank you for staying by my side." US thanked the empire. He was lying on his back.

"Mmm…" England bent over and lift Alfred's chin up. The sun beamed down over England's pale face; he truly looked like an angel... The angel's lips merged over US's.

"England?" US mouthed. Their lips lapsed into a deep kiss. It wasn't an aggressive or pushy kiss, but it was a rather short and simple. It was very pleasant. Very gentle. England's warm lips moved over from the American's lips to the younger nation's cheeks. US felt the angel brush his soft lips against the American man's ear.

"I guess that's my farewell gift to you." England softly said when he finally pulled away. He scroked Alfred's hard cheek. US did not share the same soft skin as America did. US had endured so much for the last few centuries; it has made his tougher and stronger in more ways than one.

"Good bye, Alfred." The angel's face gazed down at Alfred. "My departure has finally arrived." The sun was soaring above him. The distance clock tower struck twelve o'clock.

"It's already afternoon?" US stared back at England's eyes. The clock's chime rang in his ears.

The ringing continued. "Yes. I need to leave. My job here is done. My purpose of guiding you this far is over." The man's body glowed again. "Farewell! I'll never forget you!" His form broke into a thousand pieces of white glowing shards, scattering across the pseudo harbor like feathers in the wind.

"England!" Alfred cried over the clock's call. "I'll never forget you either! England! Arthur!" He felt his hand over his chest and stared at the light that shot out of his heart. The arrow was still there. But he felt no pain. Why? The clock tower finally silenced.

US remained lying down on the deck of the harbor. Or what was supposed to be the harbor. The big grey clouds have refused to go away. The town itself was now completely empty. Ever since he and Arthur had talked. Everybody had disappeared. It was just him and England. Now, it was just him, US.

Alfred brought his hands to his chest, he felt empty after England left... His fingers felt the arrow's presence. It was so odd to feel nothing when the weapon was still deep inside his chest. Alfred slowly pulled out the arrow from his chest. The man suddenly screamed in agony. Where did the sudden pain came from? He cried out from both sudden compressing pain from the released arrow and realization that this might be the end. US clutched his chest in pain. The pain in his chest was intense like someone had burned his heart with hell's fire. The compelling force made US wanted to rip out his heart and throw it into the depths of the sea. US wanted to get rid of the fire. He wanted to forget that he had ever agreed to England's idea of being shot. He wanted to forget that he had ever landed into this world. But most of all, he wanted the pain to stop! The pain continued to spread through Alfred's body like a virus. US looked around for England's help.

Realization struck him. England wans't here anymore. England was gone. There was no one else here either. US was alone. He was now truly alone. The townspeople and his men no longer existed. England was no longer here with him. Everyone had disappeared. The pain has come. It was suppose to help him. Somehow. But he was still in pain… He was still here… He was stuck in this world! Perhaps forever!

Alfred gave out another inhuman scream. Was this how it was to end?

"Help me!" Alfred hoarsely cried out. His heart's pain continued to scrape against his insides with the sensation of a sharpen razorblade. "Get me out of here! Please get me out of here! I don't want to be here any more!" He shouted out without stopping to take in breaths. His throat felt so dry.

The American sobbed; he nearly choked on his own siliva. "Please! Somebody!" He continued to cry. "Anybody! England! Arthur! America! I know you could hear me out there! Please get me out of here! Please!"

US hopelessly stared at the thundering clouds. "Somebody…" His arms reached out. His heart roared in agony. "Anybody…" The grey skies dimly lit up from the lightning. In a flash, the pain abruptly dropped down to nothingness. The American man fainted.

* * *

**~present~**

America shrieked in his sleep. The American boy tossed and turned out of his bed. The bed sheet covers were twisted from his constant changing positions.

"America?" England broke into the boy's bedroom. "What's going on?"

"Get out of my head!" The alter screamed. The boy's shrieks seemed inhuman and in agony. Alfred clutched his heart. "My chest!" His words were nearly understandable. He screamed as if someone had stabbed in the heart. "My heart!"

The Englishman rushed to Alfred's side. "Alfred, it's okay." He tried to comfort the boy. "Your heart?" Was America having a heart attack? England darted his eyes at the child.

"It hurts!" The American boy rambled. "It hurts so much! Please make the pain go away! Make the voices go away!"

_He can hear voices…_ England thought. A hallucination? His mind automatically thought of the symptoms. Was this a panic episode?

"Please England," Alfred begged; he tugged on England's shirt. "Please do something." He continued to clutch his chest in pain.

"Don't worry, Alfred." England told him. "I'll call the doctor right now."

America's eyes widened. "The doctor?" He stared at England. "Please! Not the doctor!" Alfred cried in both pain and out of anger. He didn't want to disappear! He wanted to remain here with England! He didn't want to go back _there_! He didn't want to return to being nothing!

England went over to Alfred's desk to retrieve the phone. "The doctor will help you feel better." He felt like he was explaining a simple concept to a child. "I'll drive you there." The former empire put on a jacket. "Alfred, let me help you into your clothes."

"I don't want to go there!" Alfred hollered as England struggled to get the jacket around the boy's body.

"Shhh," England whispered in the boy's ears. "There, there." He finally pulled the zipper up on the boy's jacket. The Englishman carried the boy to the car. Alfred surprisingly didn't struggle against England's grip. Perhaps he was too tired to attempt to do so.

When they arrived at the hospital, England had to explain to hospital of the pain America was feeling and that they were nations. Luckily, England didn't have to rush through paperwork after he announced to the place that he was a friend of Albert Jones. The staff automatically knew who they were dealing with.

"Do you still feel the pain?" England asked America when they were in the room, waiting for the doctor to arrive. Alfred was lying down on the bed; England was sitting beside him. There were several nurses running the night shift. It was still three o'clock in the morning.

"Yes." America weakly replied. "My chest hurts…"

"Those voices," The older nation tried to retrieve information of the boy. "What did they sound like?"

Alfred was in tears. "Two people." He breathed in. "It's always two people."

"Yes?" England leaned over. Who were those people?

"One of them was you." The alter said. "The other was… him…" Alfred was angry for feeling so weak.

England stared at America. Him? "Who is him?" The older nation asked.

"He's," Before America could reply, the boy screeched in pain. "What the hell is that idiot doing to my body?" Alfred aggressively asked to no one in particular.

"Alfred?" The Englishman thought, was America talking about US? Do did that meant that America heard US's thoughts? What was happening between the two Alfreds?

"What did he do to make me feel like shit?" The boy cursed. Alfred started to shake; his lips quivered. His speaking style suddenly shifted. "Help me!" Alfred cried out. His hands dropped to the side. His chest screamed in protest against talking too much. "Get me out of here!"

"America?" England was shocked. What just happened? "Get you out of where?" He wanted to know.

America didn't seem to hear England's question. He continued to shout out. "Please get me out of here! I don't want to be here any more!" He continued to shake violently. England finally realized. Alfred was having a seizure. The American boy shook his body in such an inhumanly manner that his skin had the appearence of folded velvet. His skin was folded and looked unnatural. England was afraid that if anyone touched Alfred, the boy would fall apart.

The nurses heard the commotion from outside and came rushing in to save the boy. They started to give out commands to the other nurses and brought out several monitors and a few plastic bottles. Medicine?

"Get the doctor!" One of the nurses commanded the others. "Quickly!"

"He's on his way!" Another one said.

"Stand back!" One of the workers said to England.

"I'm his friend!" England said.

"I'm sorry sir," The nurse replied. "But we need you to step away from the patient."

The American boy sobbed; still twitching, probably not aware of his own state. "Please! Somebody!" He continued to cry. "Anybody! England! Arthur! America! I know you could hear me out there! Please get me out of here! Please!" The nurses around him tried to calm him down. All England could see was Alfred buried in a sea of hands and equipment. He sounded like he was choking. England felt his insides literally froze. Alfred had forgotten how to breath. The alter's face slowly turned purple from the lack of oxygen entering into his body.

England blinked. Was that US talking out of America's mouth? It sounded like he was in pain.

"US!" England cried. "Alfred!"

"Sir!" The nurse repeated her instructions. "You need to step out of this room! Your presence will not make anything better…"

"Somebody…" Alfred whispered hoarsely. "Anybody…" England waited to hear more, but the nurse pushed him out of the room. The door slammed to the man's face.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Zipper were not invented until 1851 by Whitcomb L. Judson.

(2) - Pain au chocolat is a French pastry filled with chocolate. It is normally eaten for breakfast along with coffee or tea.

(3) – Baozi, or bao, bau, nunu, pow or pau is a Chinese steamed filled bun that is normally filled with meat or vegetables.

Chinese immigrants have not begun to move to America until the late nineteenth century. Most of the immigrants moved to the Pacific states of America and were from the southern districts of China. Many of the first immigrants were men; many of the women were tricked to become prostitutes. Missing their homes, the immigrants built Chinatowns to feel familiar with, serving many of their own cuisine.

There are probably other historical inaccuracies in this chapter, but that was the point of this chapter anyway.

* * *

**Notes:** This is basically. Possibly. One of the hardest chapters I have yet to write so far for this story. I don't remember ever struggling so much to type a chapter. I found it difficult to know who to link the events together to get this as a result. I had to write this chapter so that US was stuck in a world where everything that was once a fantasy turn into a messed up world where something doesn't seem to be right. Yes, I intended this from the very beginning. I did however, enjoyed writing the angel event. Writing England's transformation was just too good to waste. So to summarize this, US finally realized he's stuck in a fake world, he gets shot in attempt to reverse the effect, and America is rushed to the hospital. Whether US's method works or not, you'll have to keep reading on to see if US ever returns to the real world. Start guessing away!

School is back! And my school computer blocks out ff! TTATT So I'm posting this early in the morning before I leave the house. I will continue to post the new chapters on Friday mornings if it works out well. Oh, and thanks for you guys' encouragements! I was half expecting you guys to be mad at me for tricking you like that. To be honest with you, I think time traveling causes too much confusion. It's not really my liking to deal with time paradoxes, and the idea of making one thing seem like another seemed too good to spare. One reviewer took AP Psych and saw it coming, but most of you guys probably didn't expect it. Man, you guys are so awesome. 20 reviews for chapter 14? I love you guys. Keep the reviews coming! Thank you for reading and reviewing! And thank you **anon**, for your awesome gift! I will treasure it like an early Christmas present!

UK: I am not your gift!

RS: -hugs UK- You're so cute. -blushes-

UK: I am not! -glared over RS's laptop- What a messed up chapter. So confusing.

RS: Tell me about it. -still hugging UK-

UK: I think you enjoyed writing about Britannia Angel too much.

RS: Yeah. Writing your transformation was like description heaven for me.

UK: -blushes- You're pretty relaxed today.

RS: Yep! I'm still writing this story!

UK: Good. Want scones? -tries to push RS away-

RS: Yay! -eats them and doesn't die- Anyone want some?

US and Readers: NO!

UK and RS: Fine. -grumbles- Idiotic twats…

* * *

**Please read and review for the sake of reviewing. Or you will have to face the wrath of England's scones~**

**UK: WHAT DID YOU SAY? **

**I like to see your reaction to the screwed up world US finds himself in. Was it confusing? Was it bad? Do you think England looks good half naked? JK. Just review and tell me what you think. I need all the motivation I can get to finish this fic. We still have about 5 chapters left until the end! Keep pushing me forward to the next chapter! Hmmm...remember what I said a few chapters ago of having lots of favorite chapters? Well I think it's official. This here is my favorite chapter.  
**


	16. Chapter 16: Roots

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 16: Roots**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: In another universe, I will own Hetalia, but not in the universe we are in right now. I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**~real world~**

England sighed when he sat in the waiting room. His feet shifted around on the mint green tiled floors. The color was meant to calm down patients, but England felt sick. He glared at the clock nailed to the big white wall on the opposite side of the room. How long has it been since he and Alfred had arrived at the hospital? England thought of how agitated the American boy was when he fell into the seizure and started to spout out screams and insults. Was Alfred just seeing hallucinations, or was he really hearing US on the other side of his mind? It sounded almost as if US was speaking through America's body. If it was US, than that must have meant that US realized where he was, right? Surely that meant the medicine must have taken some sort of effect…

"How long have you been here?" He softly asked England.

"It has been about an hour I think." England replied.

New York walked through the entrance door to greet England. The teen looked tired and worn out. The state had a white cast supporting the right arm he had injured from earlier and had bandages wrapped around his forehead. Albert wore a simple attire of a big grey hooded jacket and a pair of jeans. He looked as though he had just rolled off the bed.

"When did you get here?" The Englishman asked Albert. He was so tired. Alfred's episode felt almost like an unrealistic nightmare that would eventually fade away.

"I came here as soon as I could." Albert said as he walked over to sit on a bench beside England. "I got that text message from you awhile ago." The New Yorker showed the message to England. The cell phone's light up screen was weakly lit up in need of recharging.

_Alfred is reacting badly. I think it is the medicine. I'm taking him to the hospital now._

_-England_

The message was very short and brief. The former empire's texting was not like US's or Albert's where both used slangs and improper spelling and grammar when sending messages. England's message had correct spelling and grammar.

"Right," England said. The Brit was still in his night clothes.

"Coffee?" New York handed a cup of the hot stuff at the nation.

England stared at the hot, steaming, brown liquid. "No thanks." He warily said. "I don't drink coffee."

"Oh. Right." Albert forgot. "Sorry." He took a long sip out of his own cup.

"How did you hurt your forehead?" The English gentleman took note of the bandages wrapped around the teen's forehead.

"Ah," New York sighed. "My head bumped against the wall when America broke my arm." He tried to laugh it off. "It could have been worse." The state went back to his coffee.

"You know," England said when he looked at the teen drink the addicting beverage. "You shouldn't be drinking that. It'll stunt your growth."

"Ha, ha, ha…" The gentleman was shocked when the New Yorker began to laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" England stared at the teen.

"Heh," New York chuckled. "I know someone who told me the same thing." He stared at the clock.

"Is that so?" The Brit said. He wondered who Albert was thinking of. "You should stop drinking that stuff." England repeated. "Honestly. It's almost four in the morning. You should sleep."

"I shouldn't sleep." Albert said; he set the cut aside. "I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about dad, who is probably hooked up to a bunch of machines right now." He ignored England's flinch at the harsh description. "I should have known about his condition. This wouldn't have happened if I have found out earlier. What kind of son am I?"

"Albert." England slid his arms around the teen's shoulders. "Listen to me." England stared at Albert's poor state. The teen had dark shadows underneath his pale eyes. There were wrinkles on his temples, probably from the constant stress and frustration. "Don't blame yourself. None us knew about this. Alfred kept this all to himself. That's for him to blame on. Not you."

New York stared blankly at the English nation.

"Get some sleep." England said. "Just pretend to be a normal human and relax for awhile. Sleep." His tired green eyes gazed at Albert's. "When was the last time you had proper sleep?"

"It has been awhile." New York sheepishly admitted. "So much is happening right now. I wish I could just close my eyes and forget about this."

"Then go to sleep." England said. "Just focus on your own health. Alfred's health isn't the only thing you need to worry about. You have a broken arm to heal. You definitely need the rest."

Albert looked away. "I guess." He quietly replied.

"If anything important happens, I'm sure the nurses will come tell us so." England added.

"Thanks," Albert slowly whispered. "England."

"I'm sure your father would have told you the same thing." England told the New Yorker. "He has been voicing his concerns to me about your lack of sleep."

"Has he?" Albert asked. He gave England a weak grin. "If I don't wake up until next week, it's your fault."

England sighed. "Don't pull a Rip Van Winkle (1)."

"Do you think Alfred's okay?" Albert asked.

"I don't know." The older man admitted. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"I guess dad was lucky to have you." The state said. "I guess I was wrong about you…"

"Just stop drinking that bloody drink and sleep more." England grumbled.

"I think you're asking too much." The New Yorker weakly laughed. Coffee would always be his one true love. The state took off his glasses and slid them in his jacket's pocket. He lay down on his back to go into a sleeping position on the waiting bench. He had to be careful with his right arm. "Good night England." The teen closed his eyes, ever so grateful to finally drift into sleep. Despite having just drunk coffee, he had already fallen asleep in less than a minute. He must have been really tired.

England gazed at the teen that had fallen asleep so easily. He looked so peaceful with all of the stress released. New York wasn't actually Alfred's child, but the teen was still Alfred's all the same (2). The New Yorker had stayed by US's side since almost the very beginning. England was once Albert's guardian, but those days were over thanks to the revolution. Alfred was fortunate to have children who cared about him. England looked at the clock again. It was still four o'clock. England needed to sleep too. Chances were, they wouldn't get any news of America under the morning. The Englishman took a long look at Alfred's son before falling asleep as well.

* * *

***mind***

America was surrounded by trees and shrubberies. The grass was green and lush, the trees' branches reached out over the American's head. Red bloody blossoms opened up from the tip of the tree branches, offering Mother Nature's rubies to her children who would care to pick them off and take in her gift with gratefulness and grace. Blue birds flew up ahead, singing to each other in creation of another concerto in the name of love and beauty. Their shrilled vocals trilled, lacing over each other's chirps in a duet of notes, running through their song, slowly arising their sweet voices through the crescendos and leaping through the measures on the legatos (3), looping their love into a knot. The tired owl's soft snoring hoots accompanied the birds' chirping and acted as a soothing metronome to their love ballad. Goblin green vines wrapped their long snaky arms around the old shrunken trunks of the willows, having no mercy of the tree's vulnerability. The thorny vines greedily took hold of the trees and claimed them as eternal prisoners, eagerly welcoming their new friends, sucking out the arbores with the enthusiasm of a parasite.

Wild flowers and weeds grew around America's path. What a peaceful place. Where was he? It looked like the woods that used to surround his old home when he was a child. When he was still under England's care. America walked through the woods. If he kept walking, he would eventually reach to his home. Where England would be waiting for him…

He thought of England when the empire once took care of him. Back when England was still happy with Alfred. When America was still a young body of land that couldn't survive on his own. It was England who introduced him to the concept of God and how to live on his own. When England left to fight in a war in Europe, America had to learn to support his own economy and learn how to live by himself by hunting for his own food and sew his own clothes. America had lived with his thirteen colonies. His children. Some lived in the harsh cold north and made a living out of fishing, ship making, and trading. Others lived in the south and sold crops such as tobacco and rice and worked beside the slaves in the crop fields. The colonies in the middle had fertile land and decent climate; they were also often the ones who came up with unorthodox ideas. Some of the colonies were Alfred's and some were England's, but all of them lived away from England. All of them lived fine until the revolution…

Wait, America stopped, wasn't he supposed to be in the future? He was perfectly fine being in the future. He escaped the past to stay with the future England. He liked it there. But then… _him_… It was _he_ who dragged America back into this place. America realized where he was now. He was back here again. He was stuck in this dreaded place. The place was so beautiful, but it was dreadfully ever so lonely. He was always by himself! America didn't want to go back to this place! Not anymore! Not again!

America turned about to go back to where he came from, but something grabbed hold of him. It was one of the vines! The plant twisted its arm around America's ankle, gripping onto the boy like kelp. America tried to kick the vines off.

"Let go of me!" America cried; he attempted to cut the plant loose with his nails. "Let go of me you blasted fiend!"

The plant groaned when the alter scratched it. "Not unless I'm planning to die!" The vine cried back. America realized that it wasn't a vine who had grabbed him.

America stopped struggling to look down at his feet where the voice had grabbed him. It was US. He looked like he had been through hell and back. The older man was lying on the moist ground; half of his face was buried into the earth. There was dirt and soil all over the man's attire; US was wearing the original blue rebel uniform from the revolution. US's once golden hair was now a dark dirty blond that was almost brown, covered with dirt and debris. The original wore a dark and tired look. America looked at the spot where he had scratched US. The original's wrist was bleeding from America attack; US's chest had dry blood covering the clogged wound of where America's chest pain rooted from. US used a bit of cloth he had found in his bag to attempt to patch up the hole in his chest.

"It's you." America stared at the older nation. He saw US's wound. What on earth did US do to himself? Was he suicidal?

"It's me." US breathed out. His dull navy blue eyes were unusually blank. "I have been waiting for you."

"What are you doing on the ground?" The alter was afraid to ask. What has happened to US to put the original man into such a state like this?

"Heh," US right arm dug into the ground. "I have been lying here for who knows how long." He attempted to pull himself up into a standing position. US looked up at America. "I collapsed after I was shot." US said. "I was at the harbor of the town, but it looks like the world had decided to change it state again." How often did this place change?

US gazed at the scenic environment around him. It was so peaceful… what happened to the floating numbers? US tried to remember what happened after he fainted. After experimenting tormenting pain from England's arrow, the original woke up in the ominous forest. He reasoned that during his unconscious period, the world must have shifted into the forest because something in the outside world must have changed Alfred's state of mind. The original man heard America's cries of "What the hell did that idiot do to my body?" from earlier. That was a good sign. America had heard him. But did Arthur hear him? US could only pray that the English nation had heard his cries.

Once US was awake in his new environment, he remained lying in the grass for awhile. He was still too weak and tired from the new wound. He was curious of England's weapon. A weapon that did not inflicted pain until it was removed. It was remarkable. Beautiful even. In a deadly way. The pain no longer released out of the American's body like a timed bomb, but now, the pain was slowly evaporating out of the original's skin pores. The pain now had the sensation of a dull pinch than the sharp blade of a knife. US almost felt numb from the hours of feeling the constant pain.

After lying down for what felt like hours, US saw a blue flash of light beaming up ahead, filling up the dim lighted forest. Who could it be? Was it England? But wasn't England gone? The Englishman said that his time was up. So who could the person be? Struggling with all of his might, ignoring the singed pain from his body, US clawed himself towards the new presence, pulling himself through the soft grass on his tired back. He didn't want his chest pain to start bleeding again if he were to lie on his stomach. US was surprised that his heart was still beating proudly like a prancing stallion. When US could no longer find the strength to continue on, the man stopped to lie on his back. He decided to patiently wait for the new person to come. Perhaps the person knew the way out. US was annoyed that England's method didn't seem to have worked. Was England just using that opportunity to harm US?

Several minutes passed by when US heard the person approach his direction. US had to clumsily boost his head up to see who the new comer was. To US's surprise, it was America. The boy was attired in loose white hospital clothes. His pale white face was clean and free from dirt and his feet were soft and bare. His hair was golden and his bright blue eyes lit up at the forest around him. America didn't seem to have noticed US yet. Snaking through the cool grass, US took the chance to sneak behind America and take hold of the alter by the ankle, sending the younger nation into panic and scratching US to defend himself.

America interrupted US's thoughts. "What am I doing here?" He glared at the original who was still on the ground. "Who are you?"

US tilted his head. "You recognized me. So why are you asking?"

"I meant," The alter curtly said. "Why did I have to meet you. US." America pronounced US's name with venom.

"You knew of my existence?" The original asked. How long was America aware of him?

"I have known for awhile." America claimed. "I have known about the fake me who claims to be the real me."

US blinked. "Wait," What was America talking about? "What?" He stared at America. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me." America sounded impatient. "You have been taking over my body since the war. You're not me."

"That's ridiculous!" US exclaimed. What kind of madness was this? "I'm the real one! I'm Alfred!"

"England always talks about how I used to be so obedient to him." America said. "He doesn't like it when you tease him. At least I don't make him cry. I'm the real one."

US was furious. "You made him cry too!" What kind of reasoning was this? The original spitted out. "I heard it when you tried to kiss him. He didn't like it did he?"

"Shut up!" America shouted. "He always cries about you on your birthday! Some hero you are!"

'That was long time ago!" US said. "That was before we made up in 1945!" The older man groaned. "Why do you even exist? You're not supposed to exist!"

"I have always existed!" The other shrieked. "You're the one that hasn't come in existence until almost a century ago!"

US eyes blazed at the young boy. "Don't fuck around with the timeline, kid." Now America was messing around with his memories. "That was you! Not me! I am Alfred F. Jones! I am the United States of America! I am real!"

"You may be real," America said. "But England is still unhappy of your break away from him during the revolution, huh?" He glared at US. "How can England even stand looking upon you every day? When you're the one who broke his petty heart?"

"Like you're any better!" US screamed back. "You broke from him too! That's why you keep thinking you're from 1783, isn't it? You refuse to move on at all!"

"I bet England likes me more than he likes you!" America shouted. "At least I don't shove it in England's face that I am stronger than him! At least I don't make him feel like crap whenever he talks to me! Because when he talks to you, he's afraid that you might laugh at him!"

"England is mine." US said. "You don't know what our relation is. You don't know the pain Arthur and I went through to survive through our relation. You're just a child, and nothing more."

"Calling him by familiar terms, are you?" America bitterly took note.

"Arthur and I are closer than you would be with him." US jealously claimed.

"You never answered my question." The alter whispered. "Why did you bring me here?" He stared at the trees around him. "What do you want from me?"

The older man hoarsely said, "I want to have my body back." US tried to stand up again. "I want to go back and face England. I need to talk to him." The original nearly fell on his back; his legs weren't strong enough to support his damaged body.

"Um." America pretended to think for a moment. "No." He didn't feel the need to think over the issue.

"No?" US's dull eyes widened. "Why?" He was starting to get desperate. The original almost had hope when he saw America in the woods with him.

"Why should I hand over my body back to you?" America asked. He began to kick US in the face. "Why should you get to have England, but not me?" The boy cried. "My whole life, I was created because of some child trauma of yours. Because you felt guilt for hurting England. I was created just so that when you hated the world like crap, you could just run away while I have to take over to do the dirty work!"

"America?" For the most part, US remained quiet, refusing to cry when blood was coming out of his left nostril. America had kicked him in the nose…

America continued with his rant. "When you're done running like a coward, you would go back into your real world to go kiss that Brit while I'm stuck in your mind, rolling around like a hog, waiting to be cooked for Christmas dinner!" He ignored US's bloody face. "I'm just a tool for you! Thanks to you, I'm just a prisoner of your mind! I wasn't even born the natural way! I was born out of a person who already existed before me!"

"Alfred," US tried to calm down America. "Please… I'm sorry…for being a coward…"

America turned away from US. "It's not just that." He looked upset. "England likes you too. That's the worse part." He cried again. "He likes you more than he likes me…I bet he hates me for trying to kiss him…"

"That's not true." US said. "I sure England likes you too."

"No he doesn't!" America cried. "He always talks about you! He misses you! Now I'm the villain! Because I'm refusing to let you go because of my selfishness!" He looked down pitifully at the original who couldn't stand up. "I want England to be happy," America tearfully said. "But I want to be happy too."

"I'm sure there's a way out of this." The original tried to think of a solution.

"I'm sorry, US." America said. "But I won't let you go. I want to stay with England." The alter closed his eyes. "I'll be the dominant personality from now on…"

"Wait!" US reached out to America. "Don't leave!"

America's body dropped to the ground. The boy fainted.

US stared at the collapsed body. Why did America just disappear? The boy's body was still here. He checked America's body to make sure. The boy's body was still alive and breathing. It was like America was in deep sleep. Was this how it was? That US would now become the little voice in America's head, and just become a nonexistent personality? Did this mean that he was no longer real? That he could not return to the real world and be with Arthur again?

A loud wail shook the ground. US looked up. Floating in the pale blue skies was a big shadow that overshadowed the Alfreds. A plane? Wait… Alfred looked closely. His eyes nearly popped out. A whale? The giant mammal was treading through the clouds like it would in the waters with a school of fishes. The dark colored whale bobbed his head up and down to propel itself through the wind currents. The mammal continued to bellow out its wails, oblivious to its unnatural environment.

When he looked up, US noticed that the sky was cracked. There was a small section in the sky where the azure blanket had a big crack where a black hole was shown through it. Numbers and distorted images of some kind floated around the crack. When the original first looked into the forest, he noticed that there would sometimes be twisted trees where the lines did not match and it looked like the trees were made up of more than four different types of trees. There were sometimes swirls in the tree holes, sucking in anything that approached too close to it.

US went back to gawking at the whale that seemed so out of place. Of all of the mammals the dream world was to provide, he had a whale. Flying. In the sky. What a weird place. The world was definitely falling apart. Everything about the world was out of place. It was like looking into the data of a hacked computer. The only problem was, this situation, was very real. And it looked like US might be stuck in this dimension forever.

US continued to stare at his new world.

"England?" He softly whispered. "Arthur?" He had never felt so hopeless.

"Arthur?" He couldn't find the strength to try again. The man cried.

* * *

**~real world~**

"I'm sorry for calling you at such an inconvenient time," Albert apologized to the man. The teen had just woken up from a very long sleep. It was past one o'clock when he and England woke up.

"Not at all," The man shook his head. "No apologies." He gently smiled at Albert in the same manner as a grandfather smiling at his grandchild. "The only important thing that matters now is that your father recovers."

"I'm sorry," England cleared his throat. "But have we met before?"

"Ah," The man took out his right hand to shake hands with the English nation. "I'm Dr. Gierhart. I'm Alfred's doctor. You must be England."

"How?" England stared at the man. Just who was he?

"Didn't I tell you?" New York said. "He knows who we are. He's a family friend."

The doctor was an old man who looked to be about in his later fifties. He had dark grey hair that was patched all over his nearly bald head. The man wore a white doctor's coat and had a simple suit underneath it.

"How is Alfred?" England asked the doctor. "Is he alright?" He looked into the hall as if in hopes that Alfred would emerge out of the halls and be back to normal.

"It took us a while to calm him down," Dr. Gierhart reported. "But after a day's rest, he should be fine. It shouldn't take him that long to recover. He'll be out here by another day at its earliest."

"Can we see him?" Albert asked the old man. "If you don't mind." He added.

"You are welcome to visit him." The doctor replied. "He may not be awake or alert when you talk to him, so don't expect much."

"Thank you." New York thanked the doctor.

"Aren't you the same doctor who diagnosed Alfred with D.I.D.?" England quietly asked Dr. Gierthart.

"Yes." He replied. "It was me."

"The medicine…" England started. "Alfred hasn't been taking his pills for awhile…"

"Yes," The doctor said. "We took note of that when Alfred was checked in." He calmly asked. "And you wonder if there's a cure for his condition?" This wasn't the first time his clients have asked.

Dr. Gierthart asked. "How well informed are you about Alfred's condition?"

"We only know the basics." Albert said. "We know of its symptoms and how it effects the patient."

"Yes," The doctor exclaimed. "Headaches, body pains, personality changes, you are quite aware of them, yes?" He told them. "I have been giving Alfred years of therapy since I have diagnosed him with D.I.D. The sessions have helped, and his symptoms have even lessened. I prescribed him the pills in hopes that it would help, but I'm afraid that I have no control beyond that."

"What does this mean?" The English nation was curious to hear more.

"I'm afraid that if what you said was right." The doctor said. "That Alfred has indeed been in his other personality for awhile, that personality might have become the dominant one."

"What?" Albert exclaimed. What would happen now? He and the other states couldn't afford to continue to have Alfred in this state anymore! They could have D.C. deal with Alfred's duties, but New York feared that the work might have been too much for the boy. Even Alfred couldn't handle all of his own paperwork.

"Sir," England grinded his teeth. "Alfred might disappear?"

"This may be from the stress," The doctor tried to explain. "Have you seen any signs of Alfred through the alter?"

"I heard US talking through him." England said. "If must have been the pills did that…"

"We can only help Alfred this much," Dr. Gierthart told the two blonds. "We can only hope that things get better."

"What kind of doctor are you?" England angrily asked.

"England," New York tried to calm down the Englishman. "If US did struggle out, that means he's planning to come back. Alfred's strong. We need to have some faith in him."

"Try and talk to Alfred." The doctor suggested. "Perhaps there is an unresolved problem he needs your help to solve."

"Take me to his room." The former empire commanded.

* * *

The boy had clear tubes running all over his body and the tubes were connected and hooked up to machines beside his bed. Along the hospital machinery was a beeping device that showed low brain activity; Alfred must be sounded asleep. Alfred was changed into clean white hospital clothes. His hair was messy and out of place; he had something taped to his nose, but England chose to ignore it. He looked so pale and sickly, almost like a dead corpse.

_No_, England told himself. _Alfred is not going to die. He's too strong to even think about the possibility. _

Alfred twitched in his sleep. The blond boy wore a big frown on his face; his temples had wrinkles that didn't seem to match with his youthful face. Was Alfred having a nightmare? What was happening inside Alfred's mind? Was US ever going to come back? Or like the doctor said, might America end up winning dominance over the two personalities and take over? As the doctor predicted, Alfred was indeed, asleep.

England went over to slide a chair next to Alfred's bed. The hospital bed was on rails; the Brit was careful not to slide anything in fear of knocking over the machinery connected to the American nation. Albert was currently waiting outside for his turn to talk to Alfred. England insisted that he would talk to Alfred by himself. He wanted to be alone with Alfred again. Not Alfred the America, but Alfred the US. He supposed that he was asking too much. US haven't showed up for nearly a week. There were signs of US rising from America, but how strong US was, if US was still there, was questionable.

England stared at the sleeping American. He took a big breath.

"Alfred." England whispered. "I'm sorry for being angry at you the other day." What a way to start the talk. By reminding the boy of something he probably didn't want to remember.

"I'm sorry for not acknowledging you as a man," England continued. "I guess it was a bit biased of me to compare you with US. How could I have compared you two? You're both the same. You just haven't had the memories of experience as US had."

"Both of you are idiots," He was now ranting to an unconscious body. "Both of you don't seem to notice that I love you both. My feelings to you have never really changed. Sure, I have been a prick with the taxes, but I had my own taxes too…"

England ran his hand through his messy hair. "That kiss…I guess I didn't see it coming. I really did think that you just saw me as a brother. I did not know that you really felt like that. I'm sorry for being too harsh on you at times. Can you forgive me?"

"I forgive you England…" Alfred spoke out loud; his eyelids fluttered before opening them. The boy looked a bit shaken; he was shocked to see that he was connected to a machine. "England?" He blinked. "Where am I?"

The Brit gazed at Alfred. "America, or US?" England asked.

The boy groaned. "It's America."

"Why don't you US his body back?" England asked the child.

"So you know?" America asked. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he knew about Alfred having D.I.D. or that he was a different personality.

"Yes." England said.

"You were the one who helped New York put those pills into my food." He gasped out. Why was it so hard to breath in this room? He stared at the white tiled ceiling. What sort of place was this?

England didn't answer to the boy's assumptions. "What is the conflict between you two?" England asked. "Why are there two of you?"

"Are you against there being two of us, too?" America asked. "Are you planning to get rid of me as well?"

"I'm not planning to get rid of you." The Brit calmly told him. "I just want to know why you and US failed to cooperate together."

"It's that blasted revolution." America said. "That idiot still feels guilt for you. Keeps on running away like that and forcing me to take his place. Stupid fool." England was shocked to hear America insult the original.

"He still feels guilt?" England felt empty inside. He looked at America. "Can US hear me?" He softly asked America. "Can he hear our conversation?" England was determined to make things clear between them.

America gave a shrug. "I think he can hear everything I can hear. Because I can sure hear everything he hears right now! His voice annoys me!"

"Alfred, that's your voice." England said. "You can't be annoyed by your own voice."

"Whatever," America pouted.

"Please listen." England said. "US. America. Both of you." He watched America's body grow tense.

"I don't know where you are, but I hope you can hear me loud and clear." England closed his eyes. "That war. It is long over. Your reason for leaving. I understand. I have had other colonies who have left me for similar reasons. I understand why you left me."

England looked at America who had his eyes on the Englishman.

He continued. "But I somehow believe that…" He opened his eyes again. "That you might be wanting to know if I still hate you. That answer is. I can't hate you. If I were to do that, I might as well hate myself, because you have always been a part of me. Not as a brother, but perhaps something more than that. We were once brothers. But running through the sands of time had shaped our relation into something stronger. A bond that might even label us as lovers by human terms. I understand that your break from me may have been the start and influence of democracy, something that has definitely shaped our future today. So, no. I don't hate you. You are my friend and my love."

America blinked at the Brit's long answer. Was England really referring to his whole speech to both Alfreds? "Who are you talking to?" America asked England. "Was that just to US?"

"I meant to both of you." The man said.

"Really?" America asked. Did England finally refer to him as a man as well?

"Really." England said.

"You really do see me as that?" America was in awe. "It isn't just him?"

"It isn't just him." England replied. "After all, you're both Alfred. Two knuckleheads who can't seem to take my word for it."

"Wow." That was all he could word. "Could we talk more?" America asked. He slowly breathed into the plastic piece at his mouth. "I need to have some things get cleared up."

"Shouldn't you be tired from that seizure?" England asked. "You should get some rest."

"That can wait." America insisted. "I got that seizure because of that medicine. Apparently, US thought it was a good idea to go shoot himself."

England didn't say anything about America's last strange comment. "What do you need to get cleared up about?" He asked the American.

"First of all," America stated. "I want to know. Was I just a tool to you? A piece of land that gave you resources for your convenience?" His eyes looked sideway to England. "Did you just want me as a brother just so you could get free raw material from my land? Or later became an ally to be used for political purposes? Don't you guys call it the 'Special Relation'?"

England softly groaned. He knew that question would come one day. He was surprised that US had never popped in the question years ago. The Englishman suspected that Alfred must have kept the bothering question to himself for years, perhaps centuries. England wondered what kept Alfred from asking. Did Alfred fear the truth?

"If you want to get technical," England began. "Then yes. I did originally take hold of your land for its resources. I thought that if I raised you correctly, you would learn to trust me and hand over the raw materials to me for no price." He watched America's expression of fear appear on the younger nation's face.

"But that wasn't the only reason why I took you in." England continued. "At first, I kept telling myself that I was taking you in for the sake of economy. All for the money. But when I found you, I almost forgot the reason why I came. To my new eyes, you were just a child who needed someone's guidance. I wasn't willing to allow France to get his hands on you. I was selfish and I wanted someone to depend on me. I admit. I wanted you to be my little brother. Not because of what you had to offer, but because of what I wanted to offer to you."

The English nation began to answer America's second question. "When you broke off from me, I hated you for leaving me so vulnerable and broken. It made me feel like I was the villain. Like I did something wrong. When you came back on my side in WWII, I wasn't expecting much from you. I was suspecting that you would abandon me and the rest of Europe like you did in WWI (4), but you proved to me otherwise. Our alliance was no tool. I saw you as a partner than a tool. I have abandoned that idea from my mind a long time ago."

"England…" America tried to absorb all of the words the Englishman had just spoken. "Why the 'Special Relation'?" He tried to piece the words together. "Special?"

England chuckled at America's confused reaction. "It's just an old term coined by one of my former bosses."

England again wondered what his old boss Churchill was thinking when the man coined that term. It was suppose to be a humble term, but by an outsider's ear, it sounded like he and US were dating. Not that that was what most of the politicians had in mind when they referred to the nation's relations.

"Alfred." England said. "I know you're probably still doubtful of my feelings of you, but I am being as honest as I am. I said what I said. I love you both. Alfred. Past or present, I still see you as him."

"But how can you stand looking at him? At me?" America asked. "When you realized that we are the reason why you hated our guts before WWII?"

"We can't live in the past forever, can we?" England asked. "If all of us where to remain dwelling in the past, the whole Earth would be in ruins as we know it." He smiled at Alfred. "You left me once, but I forgave you. Isn't that what you wished for?"

"Of course I wish to be forgiven!" America exclaimed. "_He_ wants to be forgiven!"

"You can't change the past, but you have control of the present." England wisely said. "Alfred left me, but he came back. I will worry about the present, but I will take on the future. Because Alfred will be there to support me. I will be there to support him as well. I guess no matter what happens, we both always end up together on the same side. Perhaps we were meant to be."

"England?" America suddenly felt the need cry.

"Alfred?" England looked at him in alarm. "Are you alright?" He looked at the brain scanner's lines that abruptly shot up from America's sudden emotions.

"Thank you for accepting me as a man." America was in tears. "That was all I wanted from you. I just wanted your acknowledgement and your love."

England was surprised at the younger man's honesty.

"England?" America asked again.

"Yes?" England said.

"When I get out of here," He gazed at England's bright green eyes. "Can we go to the park again?"

England gave the man a soft smile. "Yes."

America warily smiled back.

The English nation checked the clock. "I think my visiting time is over." He stood up from his chair. "I need to leave now."

"Bye." The American man said good bye to the Brit. He heard England quietly talk to Albert and the doctor outside. When England closed the door, the American closed his eyes and thought about what England had just said to him.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – _Rip Van Winkle_ is a story about an extremely lazy man named Rip Van Winkle, who came to the Catskills Mountains in New York to avoid his troublesome wife. He fell asleep and woke up 20 years later to find himself in a different time when the revolution has started. The story was written by Washington Irving and it has remained to be a classical story for generations.

(2) – New York was originally named New Amsterdam because the colony was found by Netherlands. So New York is technically Netherland's biological son. According to Himaruya's notes, he claims that Netherlands likes young women, so we can guess that happened here. England won New Amsterdam from Netherlands in a very quick fight and renamed the colony New York after the Duke of York. The revolution came and New York joined with Alfred to fight against England.

(3) – Can you tell that I'm a music theory nerd? I play the piano.

(4) – US did not come to Europe's rescue in WWI until almost the last minute, trying ever so hard to cling to neutralization and isolation. Let's admit it, we're just not Switzerland. Many European nations, such as France, saw this as an example of America being unreliable. After WWI, US demands Europe to pay him back in debt instead of helping them. After US helped end WWII, the Allied Forces, mainly France, who was suspicious of outsider Europeans in general, bitterly expected US to run off like he did after WWI to leave Europe in chaos. So Europe was very surprise when US supported global organizations such as the UN in attempt of world peace and setting up aid plans such as the Marshall Plan after WWII to help rebuild Europe.

* * *

**Notes: **This was a rather interesting chapter to write. I liked writing about Alfred's mind world. It was not normal to say the least. Does it sound like England is repeating things? Alfred wants to hear it straight from the real England, so it's very similar to England's talk earlier in chapters 10 and 12, but there are a few new elements added in there to make it more interesting.

US: I have no idea what to say to that strange world you created. Whales? Seriously?

RS: Aw, whales are awesome! (She was clearly eating too many sweets when she thought that one up.) -hugs whale plushie-

UK: Someone went nuts when she described that creepy forest.

RS: Just admit it. That was one badass forest.

US: Did you have to write about me lying on the ground? You made me sound like the devil or something.

RS: But it was so much fun. It was almost like writing one of those horror stories where the dead come out of the ground and grab their victims by the ankles!

UK: Speaking of which, has anyone heard of those Hetalia Counting Sheep CDs that have been out for awhile?

RS: The USUK one is coming out on October 29! -jumps up and down- It's about England and America counting sheep on a Halloween night! -squeals- I want it so badly! (JOKER is my OTP)

US: I'll be the hero counting England to sleep, right?

RS: Wouldn't you be the one running and crying to England's bed when you watch Halloween or Orphan for the thirteenth time while giving out candy to the kids?

US: Be quiet -_-;

RS: I'm not to sure if I could fall asleep listening to them releasing sexual tension, I mean arguing. Yeah, that's what I meant. Arguing. Not flirting. -still smiling at the thought of listening to their voices all night long- -drools-

* * *

**Remember people: read + review = RainSonata updating new chapters quicker. Elementary, my dear readers. Write your thoughts to my chapter please! There's no better way to receive feedback than to read your reader's reactions to your stories! Their emotions to certain parts of the stories are what makes the reviews gold. Can you tell that I really enjoyed describing the forest? I just love descriptions... There's nothing wrong about seeing whales float in the sky! At least in Alfred's world. Oh, and we have about 4 chapters left. We are about 80% done with this story. **


	17. Chapter 17: Gate

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 17: Gate **

**

* * *

**_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I do, however, own the plot of this story. It's all mine and I am proud to claim it as mine.

* * *

**WARNING: LONG CHAPTER. **

* * *

**~real world~**

After a whole day of resting, America was finally released from the hospital. Once again, Dr. Gierthart apologized to England and New York for not being able to reverse America.

"It's not your fault." England said; he was now wearing his everyday clothes. He had changed out of his nightclothes during his stay at the hospital. The former empire sadly looked at Alfred who was peaking at him from the other side of the room. "I understand. I guess I'll just have to learn to deal with this Alfred."

"If you are still unsatisfied," The doctor said. "I can prescribe more medicine."

"That won't be necessary," New York formed a thin frown. He didn't know how many other pills Alfred had (1)…

"Would you prefer to have Alfred come to me for therapy again?" The old man offered.

"That would be useful." Albert replied. "We might schedule one with you sometime next week if things don't get any better." He was clearly stressed out that his father still had not returned back to normal. "Can you give use a few days to see what progress dad will make? We need to watch and see if he continues to worsen."

"I won't rush you." He said. "You have all the time you need in the world."

"Albert," England glared at America who was waiting for them to finish talking. "I'm planning to take Alfred for a walk today."

"Huh?" Albert blinked. "To where?" Alfred had just recovered! Wasn't it a bit too sudden to be moving around so much?

"We'll be at the park." England told him. "It won't take that long." He explained. "I promised America that we would relax after he recovers."

"I see." New York said. He bit his lip. His right arm was still healing; it no longer hurt when the state walked or when he touched it with his capable arm.

"Do you need me to help you go home?" England asked the state. "I can drive you back to Alfred's house."

"I think I'll just call a cab." Albert replied. "I won't die."

"Are you sure?" England was worried about the teen wondering around the neighbor with a handicap arm.

"You and America can have the whole day to yourselves," The teen walked to the door. "I'll be too boring to entertain you guys."

"What are you doing at home?" The English gentleman asked.

"I'll be sleeping." New York said.

"Of course," England smiled.

"Good luck with Alfred," The doctor popped into the conversation. "I truly apologize for being useless in this situation."

"Don't you have other patients to attend to?" England curtly asked the old man. The doctor took that as a cue to leave.

* * *

"England, where are we going?" America asked the former empire.

"We'll see," England had his hands over Alfred's eyes; the American man's view was clocked out. America only saw orange through England's palms because of the sun's rays. England was leading Alfred and was careful to avoid having the American trip or walk into anything along the way.

Alfred had finally recovered from his seizure and was allowed to leave the hospital. The seizure was apparently one of the pill's effect and the chances of it happening again was great. England would have to keep a close eye on the American for awhile.

"Are we there yet?" America's voice piped up again.

"Open your eyes," England uncovered the alter's eyes. America blinked his eyes open. He found himself outside the hospital. The rectangular building looked so solemn and small. The walls of the building were built with red bricks and had small grey windows peaking at the side to allow its inhabitants to look beyond its white walls from the inside. There were small stone pavements that were laid into several paths that lead the patients into the building. There were various trees planted aside the path on the green lawns to liven up the place. The front of the hospital had sliding glass doors.

England handed something soft into American's arms. The small object was warm and soft, it felt worn out from age, but the small stitches sewn on the fabric told Alfred that it had been repaired.

"England?" Alfred stared at the small gift. "What is this?" He stared at the small stuffed animal England had handed to him. The small creature was white and had brown buttons sewn to be its eyes. It had a small pink button nose and it had a soft pink blush on both sides of its cheeks. It had two arms and legs loosely stitched into its body that was stuffed with new cotton and fluff. It had two long floppy ears hanging from its head.

"It's not much," England admitted. "It was something I found in your closet and…" He trailed off. "And it was worn out. I just fixed it up for you since I knew you always loved it."

"John (2)." America whispered the stuffed rabbit's old name. "I can't believe US still kept this." The rabbit was a gift from England when the empire saw that Alfred for sad for the death of his real rabbit friends. England hand sew the plushie in attempts to comfort the crying child.

"I'm sorry if you didn't like this…" England said.

America shook his head. He hugged the plushie. He didn't care if he was technically a nineteen year old man who still loved his toys. Alfred was just speechless. He hugged England; he was careful to not hurt the gentleman this time with his brute strength.

"Thank you, England." Alfred cried. "You really fixed it?"

"It was hard to work on this," England said. England didn't shove American away from him. "Since you were still in the hospital and I was unsure of whether or not to go get more supplies while you were still recovering…"

"You didn't have to worry about me," Alfred told him. "I would have recovered anyway."

"That doesn't stop me from worry about you." England sighed.

"This is the best gift I ever got…" America was in tears now. "You still remember."

"We should leave." England reminded America. "Do you want to go to McDonald's?"

America turned to England and gawked at the Englishman. "Really?" England was offering to take him to McDonald's again?

"Really." England said. "I believe I have only taken you there once. Right?"

"Yes." Alfred said. "You didn't let me go after that. Why you now okay with this?"

"You just recovered," England said. "So I don't think it would hurt to go there again." In truth, England was just spoiling US's alter. England was starting to grow some attachments to US's other personality. However, in England's eyes, America was still Alfred. The difference between the two was still there, but he still liked him anyway.

"Where's McDonald's?" America asked.

"Let's find it." England said.

* * *

"Alfred," England groaned. "How much will you eat?" Why must the McDonald's menu have so much variety? Alfred had decided to eat an Angus Bacon and Cheese Sandwich, a big bag of French Fries, a chocolate milkshake, and a cup of coffee. Why was he eating so much? Was England the only one who thought that America was eating more than usual? England had his coffee and his cheeseburger.

"You can never eat too much!" America boasted.

"You're going to get fat that way," England complained. "Think of all of those calories and the extra fat in there. Too much grease isn't good for you and…"

"Do you want to share this milkshake with me?" Alfred interrupted the older nation's rant. England just turned red, but silently nodded his head. He had to swallow his coffee, or else he might spit it out into America's face. Alfred was already done with his food.

"Thanks for repairing John." America thanked his former guardian. He was still holding onto the rabbit like a lost child. It was too hard to stay angry at Alfred for long.

"It was nothing," England softened up and blushed. England was meaning to repair the rabbit anyway. The plushie was still lying on America's bed when he last visited him. The rabbit was falling apart. He took a small sip out of Alfred's straw; England didn't bother to stand up to get another straw to share with the American. The drink was less cold. America's grip on the cup had warmed it up.

"I guess US still likes you for keeping him!" America beamed.

"I-I guess so." England nervously laughed. He was unsure of how America would respond to that statement after his tantrum the other day…

"Don't worry England," Alfred caught the sight of England's shoulders slightly rising up from stress. "I'm not mad at US for that."

The former empire sighed. "So what do you want to do today, America?" England asked the younger nation.

"I want walk with you," America said. "Can we go to the park? Like you promised?"

England smiled. "Sure." The restaurant was in the same side of the town where the park was; they were walking towards the playground area. Walking through the town was like walking through a messy sea of thread. The town was so small; no matter how much you walked, you would always cross between stores or places that you recognized. Everything was connected in such a way that you could easily meet a stranger more than once.

"Thanks England." America quietly thanked the Brit. He stood up and walked over to the trashcan to dump the food wrappers. England followed America outside to see the sunlight again.

America was wearing the some of the clothes they have bought from the mall the other day. He was wearing a white shirt with the American flag sewn on the front and some dark colored pants. England was wearing a white shirt with a green jacket over it along with black colored pants. They have chosen to walk to the park since it wasn't too far. The town they were currently at was small enough that one could actually get around without having to drive or own a car.

"Thanks for what?" England was confused.

"For accepting me." Alfred looked at the brilliant endless sky. "Even though you know that US might have disappeared forever…"

"Is he really gone?" The Englishman feared of this.

"No." America shook his head. He tapped his head. "He's still in there. He's hanging onto his existence." They walked over the street when the lights switched to red.

England wondered how long US would last. If America did indeed become the dominant personality, what would happen to him in the end? Would US remain a prisoner of his own mind or just disappear all together from existence?

"He's still there." England whispered.

America looked at England. He didn't tell the Englishman of his decision yet. He was unsure if he should have. Even US didn't know of this yet.

America suddenly stopped walking and said, "England," his bangs covered his eyes from the older nation's view. "What if I were to tell you that US might come back?"

"Well," England said with one hand in his pocket. "I would say that's brilliant," England replied. 'But you still want to stay here, right?"

America just shook his head. "No. Today will be my last day here."

England stopped in his tracks. Did his ears deceive him? He couldn't believe it. "Your last day?" He started at the young man.

"I have been staying in the real world for nearly a week," America started to say. The rabbit was still in his possession. "You have shown me the world. You saw me as a child, but you remained patient with me anyway and accepted me. Even when you knew that I was just a memory created by the same person I took away from you."

"That one week," America continued. "It was special to me." He gave a sincere smile to the English nation. "I have never been so happy in my life. You don't have to endure with my tactics anymore, England. I'll be gone tomorrow and you'll have US again. I'm being to bring US back to you, but I want to spend one last day with you before I leave. This is why I want to walk with you today. I'm glad I finally got to know you."

"You can't leave!" The former empire cried. "You're Alfred!" They were still minutes away from the park. England didn't seem to notice the rushing cars going by them.

America sadly smiled. "I'm Alfred, but I'm also not him. I was created to block out the bad memories Alfred didn't want to tolerate with. I'm just his shield. Don't you hate me for taking US away from you?"

England sobbed. "You're not a fake," He threw his fist against the younger nation's side. "You're just a part of his personality!" He insisted. "How can I hate you if that means I have to hate US too? Don't you understand? You would still be Alfred to me!"

"Thank you for being sentimental," The young blond brushed the Englishman's eyelashes. "But don't cry. I already feel guilty for making you cry more than once because of me." America wiped the former empire's tears.

England turned his face away from America. "You stupid git." He grinded his teeth. "Both of you!"

"I know," America scratched his head. "Alfred didn't want anyone to know about me. What would the other nations say if they knew that a world power had an identity crisis? We never actually met each other face to face and held an actual conversation before this happened." Alfred grabbed hold of England's empty hand. "The most we had in our relation were occasionally hearing each other's thoughts or voices."

"You heard US when you woke up the other day." England confirmed.

"It was US screaming at me." The American replied.

"Well…what did he say?" England continued to walk. The Brit was curious to see what US was saying on the other end. He was even more curious of what America could hear. Could the alter hear everything US said, or was it only at certain times did America had access to certain memories?

America bit his lips and was hesitant to fulfill England's curiosity. "He was actually screaming in pain." He clutched his chest where the pain was still fresh and tangible. "He had shot himself to make sure to remind me that he wanted his body back." The American man glanced at England; their eyes met. "I almost lost control of his body when he did that foolish stunt. He knew that he had to harm himself to harm me."

"He…" England repeated. "Shot himself?" America watched the English nation slowly take in the new information; England's Adam apple was a giant lump stuck out of his thin throat. _Shot?_ England mouthed the words in disbelief.

"US is in a world where anything can happen," America explained. "It's a world controlled by his dreams and desires. It's very chaotic. And very lonely. Because nobody is there forever. That is the same world where I once existed. And it's starting to fall apart because I have stayed here with you for too long."

"You lived in a place like that?" England wondered. He mentally counted the days he had spent with America.

"Fourteen days." America said. He saw that England was counting the days. "It has been fourteen days since you have last had contact with US."

Fourteen days have passed since America surfaced to the real world. Fourteen days. Two weeks. Half a month. _Looks like my brothers will kill me for leaving them with all of the paperwork…_England pondered. Scotland would be after his limbs. England had representatives do his work while he stayed with America, but they didn't know why England was gone. They just thought that the English nation was on some trading business trip in America.

America nudged the older man. "Let's go do something fun today!" He insisted. "I don't want to say goodbye to you by making you miserable again! Let's go to the park!"

"You never grow up do you?" England sighed.

"I never aged." Alfred said. "How can I? US didn't want me to change until now."

"What do you want to do first?" England asked. They have finally arrived to the park. The place was not empty this time. There were small children riding down the slide with no sense of fear on their tiny faces. Toddlers shrieked in glee when they flew up the swings; their parents laughing and smiling at their happy children. Dogs stiffly walked through the neighborhood with their owners unwillingly walking behind them to clean up their business.

"Let's go through the swings!" America said. "You like those, right?"

"Alfred, the parents will chase us out for stealing the playground." England rolled his eyes. He looked at the kids running through the grass.

"Aw, we're not stealing!" America claimed. "This is public property! We're just borrowing the place for a bit!" He grinned at England. "Anyway, who cares of what they think. You're still going to do this anyway."

"I suppose I will," the Englishman said. He glanced at the rotating sun hovering above their heads. "It's three o'clock." England decided. The sun was lying at a forty five degree angle to the right.

"That's plenty of time to have fun!" Alfred beamed.

"How long are you planning to stay here before you leave?" England asked.

His smile dropped. "For awhile…" He looked down at the busy playground.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" The older man asked. "Just leaving like that?" He looked worryingly to the American nation. "What will happen to you?"

America gazed at England. "I'll be fine." He flatly said. "I think I have already done enough damage to you and America. I'm sure New York is sick of cleaning after my mess." He tried to joke to England. "I guess my vacation is over, huh?"

"You still try to make a joke out of everything," England sadly smiled. "What will happen to you?" England asked again. "Where will you go?"

"Well…" Alfred felt awkward. "I guess I'll just go back to where I came from before. I'll just go back to my world…I…" _I might disappear_, America almost said out loud. He stopped himself just in time. America didn't want to worry England. England had already dealt with his announcement of reversing back badly enough.

"Won't you be lonely?" England asked. He remembered America's comment of his world as an empty place.

"I'll be okay." America replied. "There are always new people entering in and out of that world. You make new friends everyday!" He smiled.

"Who are those people?" England wondered.

Alfred shrugged. "I think they're just US's citizens he had met and known from his life. I never asked them to find out."

"I'm going to miss you," England frowned.

"I will miss you too." America said. "But I think US misses you more. He was crying for you." He thought of the original's cries of England's human name. Now America was beginning to feel guilty for leaving US in the middle of a run off world.

"I see a free swing." The Englishman said. He spotted the empty swing swaying in the wind.

"Great!" Alfred exclaimed. "Why don't you take it?"

"Me?" England was taken back.

"Sure! Why not?" America beamed at the older man. "I've been swinging lots of times. You look like you haven't had fun for awhile!"

"No," England frowned. "I'm just busy."

"And US wasn't?" Alfred asked. "Come on, bring out your inner child!" He gently pushed England towards the swing set. "Don't you want me to push you?"

The former empire froze. "You push too hard." The superpower nation was too strong for his own good.

"I won't push you too hard," America pouted. "I promise!" He looked at England with full sympathy.

England sighed. "Fine." He sat on the plastic seat chained to the metal set. "Just don't lift me up too high."

"But that's the best part!" The American man proclaimed. He gave England the light push anyway and continued to chat to the gentleman. "This is great, isn't it?" He smiled at England again. "Just you and me!"

England smiled back. "Yeah." He watched his feet lift off the ground, only to come back down, sliding through the dry sand.

"Did US come here too?" Alfred quietly asked the Brit.

"Yes." England replied. "This was where I last saw him. Until..." He trailed off.

"This is why you brought me here the other day… Wasn't it?" The younger nation realized.

"Yes." England admitted. "I thought that if you saw this place, you might have somehow reversed the effect."

"Who knows," America said. "Maybe it does." He continued to push England's swing. "You're pretty heavy."

"Well excuse, me!" England puffed. "I'm a man! Did you expect me to weigh less than one hundred pounds like one of those anorexic women from your magazines?"

The young blond frowned. "I don't know what anorexic means, but I'm not saying that you're heavy or anything. I'm just surprised how I never noticed."

"Maybe you should pay more attention to details." The English nation said.

"Maybe." America replied back. He wasn't really paying much attention to his words.

The two didn't notice the strange stares from the random parents and children who were walking by. It was a rather strange sight to see two men at the playground. It was not apparent that any of them had children, so it was weird to see them be together.

"Do you want to go home now?" England gently asked America. He stopped swinging and dropped his legs against the sand to slow himself down. "You must be tired. You just recovered after all."

"I'm still awake." Alfred said. "Let's keep going."

"Going where?" England wanted to know.

"How about we stop by the slides this time?" America suggested.

"America," England groaned. "There are children on there. We're too big for those."

America pouted. "The seesaw?"

"Let's just go home," England urged America. "We have been gone for the whole day…"

"Fine," Alfred said. He leaned against England's shoulder. "What are we supposed to do for the rest of the day?"

England stepped away from the leaning American to start walking across the sandpit.

"I don't know, Alfred," England said. "Can you stop leaning on me?"

"Where are you going?" America asked the Brit who was walking away.

"Didn't I say it?" The Englishman asked. "I said we're going home. Don't disrupt the peace here…the parents are watching us…"

"England, I…" America grabbed England's wrist. "Is this what is really bothering you?" He looked sad. "Are you afraid of the world knowing the relation between us?"

"That's not it." England said.

"Then what is it?" The young man pondered.

"I just want to be alone with you." England whispered. "I don't want the world to get in the way of us. Isn't this supposed to be your last day here?"

"Well," Alfred paused. "Yes." His hand became loose on England. "You want to go home that badly?"

"The news of you recovering was great." England said. "But don't you think that we all need to have some time to rest? Too much has been happening…"

"I see." Alfred said. He took a long look at the Brit's face. "This is my last day. So can I at least say some words for you?"

England waited.

"I said this before, and I'll say it again." America said. "I'm thankful for you taking care of me. I'm glad we have met. And that you still see me as Alfred anyway. Since this is my last day. I will say it as it is. I love you. I love you and I won't deny it. Both US and I love you. I want to stay with you, but I can't. Because I think you and the world need US more than you need me. Thank you. For accepting me. For being with me. For everything."

"Alfred?" England stared at the American.

"Please," Alfred gazed at the man who he had grown fond of. "There's only one thing left I have to ask from you." His azure eyes were fixed upon England's green eyes.

"What is it, Alfred?" The English nation asked. His eyes were too caught into Alfred's. They were already at the edge of the park where the streets intercepted. None of the city inhabitants took much notice of them. All of the citizens were far off into the distant along with the park. They almost didn't exist.

"Can you," The American man slowly inhaled the air. "Can you give me a kiss?" He wanted to taste the Englishman's breathe. He wanted to have something from England to remind him of when he would come back into his dormant form. America wouldn't be able to carry anything physical back into the dream world. He just wanted to receive a kiss from the former empire. Just a kiss. For one moment, he just wanted to become one with the English nation.

England blinked at the man. _A kiss?_ He mouthed. He touched his dry lips. England had recalled the incident at the mall that had occurred not so long ago. A kiss. He thought of America's poor attempt of stealing a kiss from the English nation. How America had went as far as attacking the Brit to get his attention. This time, Alfred had chosen to ask England himself.

"You want a kiss?" England asked. He stared at the American man. Alfred had such a serious look on his face. US's face looked so young because he was not wearing his glasses at the moment. England had forgotten how young Alfred looked without them.

America nodded. "You don't have to say yes." He also thought of the incident. "I just…wanted to ask…I don't mean to…offend you again…"

The public could see them. England thought. They were out in the open. If they kissed…if they kissed…everyone would see them…But everyone wasn't everyone. There were only a few people here. This was their last day. They should make something out of it.

England slowly approached America. "America," England whispered. "I too, am glad I have met you. I too thought you were just Alfred from the past. But I guess I was wrong. You are Alfred." His hand reached out to stroke Alfred's cheek.

America took England's hand. "England." He whispered back. "I'm sorry for what I did back there…" He was still referring his kissing attempt from earlier. "It was stupid and childish of me. I'm sorry for causing so much pain for you and US."

"Stop saying sorry." England growled. "Stop apologizing for the same thing over and over again. That won't fix anything." He rested his chin on Alfred's shoulder; their chests were now barely an inch apart from another.

"I'm sorry." America said.

"Idiot." England took his hand away from Alfred's reach and rested his arms over America's shoulders. He felt his arms slugging over America's broad back; the English nation took hold of the American. England heard the rabbit plushie's weight drop to the concrete ground below them. The small pushie laid on the floor between the feet of the two men.

"Alfred," England said. "Thank you. For dealing with me being a git." His lips ran over America's bare neck. The Englishman gave America a gentle kiss. His eyelashes flickered. "I'm sorry for being such a prat to you."

"You can't be blamed." Alfred said. America possessively embraced the former empire. "I was not well behaved myself." His body felt the cool sensation of England's thin lips. The American's lips slightly quivered from the touch of the man's body. England's warm body pressed against his; the Englishman's chest slowly rose up, taking in small inhales of the tense air between the two. America didn't care if the world saw them like this. He wasn't even aware that they were so close together in public. The rest of the world no longer mattered.

"America," England gasped. His hands slowly worked their way up from America's waist to the younger man's face. America cringed when England's cold hands were in hold at the base of his neck. The American's nerves told him to resist, but Alfred accepted the sudden cool temperature and inhaled the smell of the Englishman. He smelled oddly like fresh green grass after a spring night's rainfall.

"England," America called his name.

"Is this what you wanted?" England's messy blond hair covered the man's eyes from view.

He slowly tilted his head towards Alfred. He slowly kissed Alfred. America felt the Brit's lips overlap over his. The kiss was not a quick peck, but was slow, melting sensation. America felt his heart melt when the Englishman offered him the kiss. In the similar manner of the sun offering its sunlight to the spring flowers, both reaching out to each other in need and dependence. The two exchanged soft flesh and taking in each other's breath and emotions. America smelled the Englishman's wet breath. His kiss tasted like lemon. It was sweet and bitter, but it was welcoming all the same.

Alfred was disappointed from England finally pulled away from him. Both of them were sweating from being so close to one another. America still had his arms around England.

"England?" Alfred stared at his former guardian.

"We should get home now." England quickly said. He glanced at his watch. "It's getting late now." He moved across the street to get to the other side. He took a quick glare at the now deserted park. Most of the park was now empty. How strange that no one had interrupted their not so short kiss.

America kept staring at England.

"America?" England called out his name again. "What's wrong?" Why was America staring at him like he was run over by a truck?

"Arthur, look out!" Alfred shouted. The car's horn honked behind him. America pushed the English man out of the way. England felt Alfred's hard hands shoved him out of the vehicle's path; the older nation was sent rolling on his back. A sharp pang shot through England's system. England felt his back slam against the black cement floor, rocks and pebbles chipped his back and sent him flying to the sidewalk. England dumbly lay down on his back and heard the car run by them. He heard the driver inside cursing unintelligibly at the two.

England turned to the side of his back, ignoring the roaring pain from his sides. The burning blade of the pain made it hard to focus and open his eyes. The Englishman's new pain reminded him of Alfred's old scar. The one on the side. The English nation forced his eyes wide open. Alfred! The man who saved him was lying in the middle of the street.

"Alfred?" England cried out. The former empire got up on his knees to crawl to the American's side. He stared at the young man that was lying down beside him. Alfred's eyes were closed and looked to be at peace. He looked so calm. The rest of his body for the main part was unharmed. There wasn't a single scrape on his body.

"Alfred! Are you alright?" England cried again. He checked his body. England laid his head down against the American man's chest. His heart was still beating. Alfred was still breathing. Alfred slowly took in his breathes at a drowsy pace, the cadence of his intakes told England that the man was alright. Alfred was unconscious. He had fainted.

England awkwardly lifted the American man's body, struggling to have his wobbly legs support both him and the unconscious blond.

"Alfred," England whispered. "You idiot. Being the hero. I would have survived that crash anyway." He slid Alfred's gold bangs by the side. All of the American's stress was gone from his face. England's cheeks brushed gently by Alfred's. The git's face was still warm. He would have to somehow get the unconscious git back to his house.

* * *

***mind***

"You know, I never thought that this would be my faith…" US drawled on. He was lying on his belly, staring dully at the trees ahead. The forest only continued to stretch out to the high skies, almost limitless. The trees continuous ran through horizontally and vertically; Alfred could not find the exit or entrance of the forest. The once small forest had extended its area and perimeter during his stay. There was nowhere to run to. After America left, US had nowhere to go. He no longer held a purpose. He had lost motivation. What was he to do? England was gone. America was gone. Soon, US himself would be gone.

A low grumble rose besides US. The loud sound didn't bother the American man at the slightest. Alfred was lying on his belly on the flying whale he saw earlier. When Alfred cried of America's departure, it caught the giant mammal's attention and flew (or was it gliding?) down to retrieve the sobbing blond man. US soon found himself riding on the whale as his transportation. It was just like old times. When his whale friend floated around his house. Except that the whale didn't fly. The whale looked awfully like his whale friend. The aquatic creature had the same wide grin and the same carefree personality as Alfred's whale friend, so there was the possibility that this was the same whale. Like the way how England existed in this world.

"I guess it's just the two of us, huh?" US wondered out loud. "Ahanu, can you see anything?" He asked the whale. He wasn't too sure if the animal who understand his words. Alfred couldn't find himself to keep on calling the whale, 'whale'. After a few minutes of consideration, he decided to name the animal Ahanu. It meant, 'he who laughs' in one of Native American's languages. The name fitted the animal so well, who was always smiling at the American. Its happy personality contrasted US's tired and wary state. The animal might have been his last companion on earth. It was certainly the only animal that he saw in the entire forest. The animals he had seen before had also ceased to exist after American's disappearance. The alter's body had mysteriously disappeared after the boy had fainted in the dream world. After hours of searching, Alfred realized that America was gone. Maybe the alter really was gone, and that US would soon disappear too. The forest seemed so dead. The only living beings in the area were the trees and plants themselves.

The whale just bellowed back at him, bobbing its body against the strong wind currents. US couldn't understand whale. The whale just smiled back and flipped its tail around. The green arbores wall around them only extended in attempts to stop them from escaping. Ahanu was floating through the forest with Alfred on his back. Both of them didn't know where they were going or what they were searching for. Both were just hoping to perhaps find a way of the maze like forest. The trees were starting to close in on them like the metal bars of a cage.

"Maybe I should have been braver…" US mumbled. Maybe America was right. He was a coward. The original kept running away from reality, burying himself into a twisted world where the laws of physics did not exist. He was afraid of Arthur to find out. Arthur must have realized by now. That US was a fool for doing something so stupid. Such as creating an alternate personality and losing control of it.

Something caught US's eyes. His blue eyes averted to another group of trees ahead of him. Ancient oaks and willows reached out their branches, as if they too, were searching for a way out of the demented forest. Rare blue flowers were in full bloom and opened out of their bulbs like a ripe chrysalis, revealing its beauty from within. Long thick thorns shot out of the ground, crawling through the damp floor in a serpent like manner. As US looked past the chaotic plants; he saw the two trees presenting themselves at the center of the forest. The two trees were so huge! Both of them were standing side by side with one another, making themselves stand out from the rest of the younger trees. Both of them were obviously the oldest trees of the bunch. They shared the same height and carried the same traits. They were several yards wide and must have been over one hundred feet tall. Their thick roots clawed deep into the soft ground, determined to take a firm grip of the earth, refusing to let go of their place. The couple's roots intercepted with each other, fighting for food and nutrient from the other.

US noticed that the whale was staring at the same thing and was starting to slow down to land in the mess of trees. Did the whale felt the same attraction to the place as US did? The American saw his surroundings grow bigger and bigger as they approached closer to their landing spot. As they glided down, almost touching the soft grass beneath them, Alfred saw a strange sight.

Black lines struck out between a peculiar pair of trees. What were they? The lines poked out of a sea of leaves. The branches at the treetops overlapped each other, forming a round bridge that connected the trees' tops together; vines and other parasitic greenery crossed over the bridge. Leaves and branches continued down the arbores' head, branching out and weaving through its neighbor's branches. The branches twisted their ways across, this way and that, forming a wavy pattern. There were more thorns from earlier, sliding in between the competitive plants in an eerie manner.

US and the whale finally landed to the ground. For once, the whale was no longer smiling. The mammal was silent and did not do its usual routine of wailing or screeching. The American stared at the connection of the two sole trees. What a strange arrangement. He couldn't get off Ahanu. He was too shocked to do anything, but to continue staring. US realized that the trees were covering something. What was this? Was this a…?

Hesitantly, US slide down the whale's back. He gently patted the Ahanu on the side and whispered, "It's okay. We can leave this creepy place when we're done…" He went over to remove the leaves to check what the lines were. Beneath the shrubs revealed a shocking fact to US. He discovered that it was a black gate hidden beneath the numerous layers of greenery.

Alfred goggled at it. "It's a gate." He faintly whispered. "A gate?" What was a gate doing in the middle of nowhere? What was its purpose?

He continued to look at the doorway. Was there a way to get rid of the invading plants? The forest has claimed the gate as its own and has now twisted its inhabitants around the black entrance. Alfred looked at his worn out hands and reasoned that if he attempted to remove the parasites with his own hands, he would probably only end up harming himself. There were too many thorns and other obstacles blocking the gate. Even a nation would harm himself from enduring with too much pain. Almost every inch of the gate was covered with a plant of some kind. Red roses peaked out of the edge of the doorway.

"I guess we can't do much about this, can we?" Alfred asked out loud to his only companion. "I guess we might have to leave."

The whale frowned at America's comment.

"Come on," US quietly said. He gently pushed his friend. "Let's keep going." _Where will we go?_ Alfred sadly wondered. _Will we keep going until we have to stop at the end of the earth? Until the end of our existence? _The American man turned his back from the trees to face the opposite direction.

"I guess this is the end." Alfred cried. "I guess I'll never return back to England, will I?" Ahanu cried with the American.

"I never did tell England of my illness, did I?" US said. "I guess this is what I get for being an idiot." His tears continued to fall down his cheeks.

"If I can see England again, I would have told him that I was sorry for what I have done to him, and that I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I would have told him that I loved him." US sobbed. "I'm sorry Arthur!"

"But will you say sorry to yourself?" A soft voice asked US. US dully glanced at his right side where the gentle voice was coming from.

A giant green bulb erupted up from the ground. US quickly back off from the plant that arose from the earth. What was this? Ahanu roared in surprise of the new being; the whale whipped its tail about, thumping its round body against the weaker ground. US nearly fell on his bottom from the sudden movement of the ground. The stem of the plant sprang up, unwrapping itself into bloom; the plant bulb slowly unraveled, revealing a human being resting inside. Red petals flew out from the flower; the human inside was a young man in his late teens. The stranger's golden hair was soaking wet from the sweet flower's nectar. He was adorned in the same blue uniform US was still wearing. The stranger's attire looked brand new and untouched from blood or doubt. The man looked identical to US.

"US," The stranger whispered. "I came back." The man slowly opened his eyes. "I guess I decided to come back here after all."

US's eyes widened in shock. Him. It was him. America. What was he doing here? US couldn't take his eyes off of the man opposite to him. He watched America step out of the giant plant. Opening flower petals from the plant retracted back into the ground and was swallowed back into the ground. The earth rumbled in response.

"America, what are you doing here?" US warily asked his alter. His hands were still on Ahanu; US was ready to leave the scene if America had decided to do something reckless.

America saw US's tense shoulders and calmly said. "Like I said." He quietly replied. "I decided to come back here."

"But why?" US asked. Didn't America say the other time that he was going to be the dominant personality? What made the alter decide to change his mind so suddenly?

"England." America quickly said the man's name. "England talked to me." He was determined to spill it all out to the original. "England told me everything. How he forgave you. How he doesn't hate you anymore. He said that he loved us both!"

"I know." US said. "I heard everything. I heard him talking to you. He sees you like he sees me." US felt no apparent emotions arise from his flat tone. He was too tired to argue with anyone.

"Really?" The younger one was surprised. "You hear us?"

"I heard everything." US replied. "Clear as a bell."

"You love England, don't you?" America said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"Yes." The older man answered. "I love him. Both of us do."

"We both went through the Revolution." America stated. "We both felt the guilt."

"Yet, England forgives us." US finished. US tilted his head against the whale besides him. "He's too generous to us." He thought. "He doesn't deserve someone like us."

"I know." America agreed. He gently rested his elbow on the original's shoulder. "But didn't England say? Stop thinking about the past?"

"Live on? Get over that crap?" US finished his quote. "Enjoy your life?" He rubbed his dirty palm against the quiet Ahanu in attempt of calming himself down.

"That's England," America chuckled.

"Still a stiffy old man," The original said. "Still good old Arthur."

The alter laughed. "Ha. I guess we can agree on that."

US smiled. "For sure." It has been days since he had last found himself laughing, or smiling at all. How strange it was to be talking to yourself.

"I made a promise to Arthur." America murmured. "I promised him that I would return your body back and go back to this world."

"You made a promise?" US choked out.

"I was being rather selfish and possessive of him." The alter said. "I don't think England enjoyed that."

US thought of the racket England might have made. "Probably not."

"I'm sorry for trying to win England from you." America apologized to the other man. "It was wrong of me. I'm sorry for ruining your relationship."

"Arthur didn't seem to mind." US noted. "He didn't see you as a separate person."

"I guess not." The alter said. "Why is that?"

"I think England realized that you're a part of me." US slowly said. "I think England really does realize the pain we have caused on ourselves. Because of our guilt."

"Because we couldn't learn to get over it like England did." America quietly said.

"What a demented world this is." The original comment.

"Demented, indeed." The alter mumbled. He stared at the twisted gate.

"I can't deny that I hated you for stealing my body away." US said.

"I can't blame you for feeling that way." America sighed.

"We both like England," US repeated.

"But both of the Englands like us too." America said.

"We share the same history. The same family. The same thoughts." US mindlessly added.

"We're not so different, are we?" America thought.

"We are the same." Both of the Alfred's said in realization.

All of a sudden, the black plant covered gate shone out. The gate revealed itself; it shone underneath the plants, blowing the shrubberies away from itself. The gate had a complex design of flowers and swirls, creating crosses and zigzag lines. The doorway between the two trees blinded the two men. Both of the Alfreds had to cover their ears to endure the beaming light. The white light continued to surround the two men, barely diming out, only enough to allow the two nations to open their eyes and not be blinded by the glow.

"What's happening?" US gasped. They were no longer in the forest anymore. In a single flash, everything has disappeared! The forest was gone. Ahanu was gone. Everything was gone! All he could see was the laminating light surround him and US. It was just the two of them.

"I think we have said the right thing." America inferred. They were no longer wearing the same clothes. America was still wearing his blue uniform, but US had changed back into his current uniform. US was now wearing his bomber jacket with his usual business suit and now had Texas back on. The glasses shone with brilliance. Both of them were floating in midair, defining the laws of gravity.

"The right thing?" US asked.

"I think we finally figure it out." America said. "We kept thinking this whole time. We kept telling ourselves that. That we were two separate people. And that we're too different to be the same. Even though we share the same history."

"That's right." US recalled. "You existed because of that trauma." He clutched his chest. "Because I wanted to seal that part of me away from the world." He looked down. "Because I wanted to become a new person with a more extroverted personality. Because I didn't want to remain being a weak and inexperience colony."

"We kept trying to pretend to be the hero." America said. "We pretended to have no doubt. When there was so much to doubt for. We didn't know what to do with that doubt."

"We need to deal with the real world." The original said.

America agreed. "We will have to learn."

"Thank you. For doing this." US thanked America.

"We will deal with the real world." America said.

"I don't want to be by myself again." US looked sorrowful. "What would I say to England? What has happened to the world while I was gone?"

"You won't be alone," America comforted his other self. "You don't have to be alone." He tried to comfort his other personality.

"What are you talking about?" US said. "What about you? You'll be trapped in this world again."

"Not if I can help it." The alter was determined. He spread his arms wide. "You won't be alone. Because I won't let you be."

"America?" The original choked.

Both of their bodies glowed again. "I won't leave you alone. Because I won't be alone either." America closed his eyes. Their bodies lifted up. Both of their bodies turned into a soft glow of blue. Their blue silhouettes lifted into the air, overlapping over the other.

"You won't have to deal with this anymore," America whispered. "You won't have to endure with the past anymore."

"Because…" America said.

"Because…" US said back.

"I will always be with you." America's voice fused with US's.

US eyes grew. "We're…"

America smiled within him. "We're…" He echoed back.

"We're merging. Together." The two of them spoke. Their souls danced out of their bodies, forming into one single blue ball of light. The ball of light poured into Alfred's heart; the American's chest continued to laminate with blue light.

"Alfred," The new voice whispered. "Alfred," His voice echoed through the empty realm.

"We should wake up…" Alfred breathed.

"Wake up! Wake up!" His voice shouted.

"I…" Alfred gasped.

"Alfred, wake up!" The voice continued to stream through the timeless space.

"Alfred!"

_Alfred! _

"Arthur…" Alfred whispered his name. "Arthur…"

_Alfred! _

Alfred opened his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Too many pills are not good for you. There are some patients who only expect medicine as a cure from their doctors when there are other ways of curing the condition, such as steady therapy or counseling. Some doctors only want the easy way out and just keep on prescribing medication to their patients without hesitation.

(2) – We now have General George MacBunny and Mr. John A. Rabbit. Isn't America cute with his love for rabbits? Awww…

* * *

**Notes: **It was so hard to think of something to write for this chapter since I was on vacation when I was trying to type this. I have learned that typing fanfics on other people's computers feels weird and that it slows down my pace for some reason. This chapter nearly killed me. I did not know what to write until almost the last few days of my vacation. Ugh. What a killer's writer's block.

RS: Alfred is finally out of the hospital! And the two Alfreds actually agreed on something! -cheers-

UK: Does this mean that the story is ending?

RS: Yes :(, but we still have a few chapters left.

US: Finally, I get my frickin' body back!

RS: ^_^ I think I enjoyed that kiss scene too much.

UK: This chapter is finally reaching its end!

RS: -sniff-

US: Are you crying?

RS: I can't believe I made it this far into the story! I'm so happy! -cries- I'm so glad I stuck to this story for so long! I have never been so devoted to a fanfic like this before. –blows into Kleenex-

UK: That's a good thing, right?

RS: Yes, but now I'm a bit sad that this story is over so soon.

US: What are you planning to write after this?

RS: Maybe a few one shots of Alfred's kids. Perhaps a new project of GerIta. But you'll have to wait around Christmas time for any big projects. I have to worry about applying to college. For now, I'll just stick to smaller fics like one shots or drabbles to avoid grades dropping. The rest of Lucid Memories will still be updated since I'm typing this in the middle of August.

UK: Right. Education is very important!

RS: Damn straight! But so troublesome… -grumbles-

US: It only gets worse in college.

RS: I know.

* * *

**What happens now? Please read and review. I would like to see what you thought of this. Be honest. Was it bad? Comments and reviews would be appreciated. I never thought that I would go so far for one story. I'm really glad I found this kink meme lying around. This story still has 3 chapters left and is 85% done. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **


	18. Chapter 18: Presence

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 18: Presence**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I, RainSonata, author of Lucid Memories, does not own Hetalia the manga or the anime based on the manga. I only own the fanfics I have written and posted on fanfiction and on Livejournal. That is all.

* * *

**WARNING: SUGGESTIVE ADULT CONTENTS AHEAD. RATING RAISED TO M TO BE SAFE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. **

* * *

Alfred opened his eyes. Sunbeam shot down to his face, blinding his already poor vision. The blues in his iris abruptly shrunk in size in response to the sudden sunlight beaming down at him. He blinked. It was morning. He could hear water sprinkling from somewhere, accompanied with dog barks and radio music in the background.

_Alfred!_ The urgent voice from earlier still echoed through his quiet mind from memory. _Quiet._ Alfred thought. He realized. For once, his mind was at peace. There was no chaotic riot in his mind. The headaches he once had for so long have lifted. There was no more pain inside his skull. Alfred felt strangely empty, yet relieved at the same time to have finally found no aching in his mind.

Alfred stared at the ceiling above his head. His blurry vision only saw a flat white plane paralleled to the floor below him. Was he back? Alfred wondered. Was he finally back? He turned his head to the side to get a better view of his environment.

US was lying on a very messy bed. The bed sheets were tangled from his restlessness, but the sheets smelled clean. Half of the blue blanket that he slept with was on the floor; the rest of the blanket was threatening to fall off from the edge of the bed. It smelled of lavender and laundry soap. The familiar scent calmed Alfred down. It told Alfred that he was in his room. The floor was still dusty, but there was no longer any debris lying on the wooden floor. All of the clothes have been picked up and were probably going through its cycle in the washing machine. Books were neatly stored in the bookcase on the side of the room, his laptop was wiped clean of grease and oil, the desk beside the window had its utensils organized into small buckets and pencil cases. Everything was perfectly organized and cleaned up. It was almost as if his room, or at least the cleaner of the room, was expecting him and was welcoming the American back into reality.

He was back. Alfred thought. He was back. He was in the real world again. He was free from being a prisoner of his own mind. He was free.

A small grunt erupted besides the American man. Alfred had not noticed that he had company besides him. How could he not notice the lump poking out of the blankets when he had awoken? US felt rather silly and forgetful.

Alfred gently lifted the covers off of the occupant of his bed. He saw the man's butterscotch hair poking out. The man's hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions like the quills of a porcupine. It was like a haystack. But US loved it. The man was very comfortably sleeping besides Alfred; he looked so calm, hiding nothing from Alfred's view. The man's thick eyebrows were relaxed and his cheeks were a light tint of rose.

"England?" Alfred softly whispered into the man's ear. He gently tugged on a thick part of the man's hair; England snored. He saw the Englishman's brows slightly twitch. England was still asleep. Alfred wiped the sweat beading down Arthur's forehead. What was Arthur dreaming to be sweating like that in a September (1) morning? Red autumn leaves were already raining down outside, but Alfred paid no further attention to that. The older man was still wearing his street clothes, as if he was too occupied with something to bother changing his clothes. He looked so small when he was sleeping.

"Arthur." Alfred breathed. His heart fluttered when he said the man's human name. He tenderly patted the man's hair.

Alfred rested his head on the man's chest; he had one of his arms rest behind the Englishman's back, supporting his backbone and acting as a cushion. He listened to Arthur's heartbeat, hearing the man's heart slowly beat, feeling his chest slowly rise up and down, feeling Arthur's ribcage quiver as they rose up to take in air. Alfred spent several moments just lying there on his bed. Resting his head on Arthur's chest, listening to the man's heartbeats. Being next to the British man calmed him down. He was so glad to be back into the real world. It must have been weeks since he had felt this calm without a hint of doubt or stress. Alfred stared out the window. The sun had just rose a few hours ago. He could see the light bounce off of the window and shatter into several colors of brilliance. He heard passing children laughing outside, so they must be leaving for school.

"Alfred," He heard England call out his name. Alfred felt a small tug on his shirt. The American man was dressed in his night clothes, at least. Why wasn't Arthur? The Englishman grabbed onto US's t-shirt when he called out the American's name. "Don't leave me." He softly cried. His voice was so clear. Surely he was awake?

"Arthur?" US stared at the man. He lifted his head off and sat up. Was England awake?

"Please don't leave me." England whimpered. He sighed and began to snore again.

US was just choked up. Arthur wasn't awake. He was just dreaming. But Alfred felt flattered that England missed him. Even when the man was sleeping. It was pleasant to know what he must have his own place in England's mind, even when unconscious. It made Alfred think of Britannia Angel again.

"Don't worry, Arthur." US quietly said. His voice was still hoarse because he had almost forgotten how to talk. It has been awhile since he had talked normally. He didn't know if talking to the sleeping man was effective or not. "I'm still here with you." His head was lifted, but his arm was still supporting England's back. Alfred was almost cradling the Englishman. He watched Arthur's shoulder blades level down again.

"Alfred," Arthur sighed.

"I missed you," Alfred said. "You have no idea how much I wanted to see you again." The America didn't care if the other man was still unconscious. He felt the need to say it to the real Arthur.

"You wouldn't believe what happened to me." He stroked England's hair. Despite its wild appearance, England's hair was actually soft. And silky. Alfred inhaled the man's hair. It smelled like wet grass, yet it appealed to him. England must have taken a shower during Alfred's hours of unconsciousness. Alfred silently reminded himself that he must go take a shower later. When was the last time he had got to feel warm water tickle down his back?

Alfred continued to talk to England. "The food there was pretty crappy." He thought of the nonexistent food he was to eat. It may have all been in his mind, but the food still tasted like the way he remembered it in the war times.

"All we had was rabbit, squirrel, and deer." US went on. "I almost missed those horrible scones you always made…" Alfred soon found a fist buried inside his chest. He barely flinched at the sudden hit.

"Git." England groaned. He finally opened his eyes. He sat up to dig his fist deep into the American's chest. "You are such an idiot. You know that?" Arthur slowly removed his fist away from the American after being satisfied with the damage he had inflicted.

"Arthur?" US stared. He was actually awake! The America rubbed the spot where Arthur had punched him. He was surprised that it actually hurt a bit.

"Don't insult my scones." The Englishman scowled at the American.

Alfred happily hugged the older man in reply.

"Prat…" Arthur blushed in the muscular man's arms. "You're choking me…" It was hard to breathe when the git was hugging too much. He was too strong, damn it!

Alfred stopped embracing the Brit and automatically dropped his arms to the side. He gave a mock salute to England and threw a cheeky grin at him. Arthur just rolled his eyes.

England gazed at the American next to him. Alfred was still the same as ever. Tall, blond, blue eyes, muscles, still grinning like a git... It was Alfred, alright.

"America or US?" England demanded the answer from the blond.

US frowned. He pecked Arthur on one cheek, and turned away to reach out his hand. Alfred's hand reached out to the drawer beside the bed. He took out Texas and put them on when he finally found them.

His once smiling face turned into a more serious expression. "What do you think?" Alfred asked. His bright blue eyes pierced through the old frames of the spectacles.

"Alfred!" England cried. He threw his hands around Alfred and buried his face into the American man's shirt. Alfred awkwardly patted the Englishman's back. He was unsure of what to say. It wasn't everyday that one came back from another world when they actually had a personality disorder.

"It's okay Arthur," Alfred attempted to comfort him. He felt guilty for making the man cry again.

"You idiot." US heard him grinded his teeth in anger. "How could you go on for decades with that without telling anyone?" He cried again. "You idiot. Stupid Alfred."

"I'm sorry, England." Alfred sadly smiled.

"Albert doesn't know about either." Arthur ranted. "None of your states do!" He shrieked. "Why didn't you just go take your fucking medicine in the first place?"

"I didn't mean to make you guys worry like that," Alfred apologized. "I honestly didn't mean too…" He kissed the man on the forehead. Arthur squeaked in response. "I'm sorry Arthur…"

"Sorry won't be enough," England bitterly said. "Sorry won't fix the fact that you,"

"Got one of my states into the hospital and made you stay here too long." US finished the former empire's sentence. "I know."

England stared. "How did you know that?" Wasn't America gone? Wasn't this US? How did US know about that? Arthur carefully inspected US. The younger man remained calm and collected. He didn't carry the same air as America did. America's once too wide eyes turned into US's thinner and more narrowed eyes that has perhaps seen more than a man could in a lifetime. America's eyes went from pale blue to darker blue; both eyes were still strangely bright. Texas had made Alfred looked older; he no longer looked like a child. He still looked oblivious, but Arthur sometimes wondered if US had done that on purpose…

US and America shared the same body, so there was no real difference between the two. Except that US carried his big built body in a more confident manner. He no longer slouched his shoulders or had his back bended like a cripple. He held his shoulders up high and proud, leaving no trace of doubt in his actions or movement. US's skin seemed to have magically transitioned from pale to a more slightly golden tone, but the changes were slight and almost unnoticeable. Alfred's skin changed depending on the region on his land he was currently in resident with.

Alfred's face remained serious. There was no hint of joking from his tone. "I remember everything." England never noticed it before, but Alfred's talking style has changed as well. America still held a distinct English accent in his talking style; he used to talk like England because he used to live with England and took some of Arthur's speech pattern. Alfred had gone back to his 'normal' American dialect. It was the same accent that Arthur associated with Alfred's actors from Hollywood (2). It was casual, simple, and almost flawless. When Alfred spoke, some of the words were mispronounced and looped, skipping and merging a few letters and sounds. It was one of the tamest accents England had to deal with when traveling to America. At least it didn't sound odd and it was comprehendible for the most part. Arthur was rather grateful that Alfred wasn't talking in one of his annoying accents. England nearly pulled out his hair in irritation when the American one day switched to a Boston accent when they were on a date together in Boston. When he said irritation, he meant turning bright red and having Alfred tease him for getting turned on with his 'awesome' accent. So troublesome.

"H-how?" England found himself asking both himself and Alfred. "How could you remember?" He shook his head. Wouldn't there be a giant memory gap between the two Alfreds since they were separate personalities? US had spent almost two weeks away from reality. They wouldn't share the same memories. Arthur was confused. He wanted some answers. NOW!

"I remember," US answered. "I remember everything he remembers."

When their two personalities touched, Alfred felt the shock of memories flood into his skull. The newfound information was new, overwhelming, threatening to spill out of the American's mind like a opened can of worms. US felt like a newborn baby when he first opened his eyes. The memories only just became more intense, spinning through his mind like a fast moving film speeding through his eyes. Seeing a grownup New York, meeting England in the twenty first century, going to library with him, going to the mall, being at the hospital... America's memories made US felt like he was the one who was actually there when it all happened. The events became tangible at his fingertips, he could smell, touch, feel; be at those places when they happened. He remembered all of the things England had said to him when both of them still thought that he and America were from different time periods. The lucid memories were still stuck to his mind like a fly trapped to flypaper. There was no escape from reality.

Alfred closed his eyes. "He's me." He quietly said. "I'm him."

"Alfred?" England looked at him worryingly.

"I see what he sees," US continued. "America no longer exists." He cracked and flexed his fingers to test and see their flexibility. A soft crack erupted from his index fingers.

Arthur found himself shocked. "America doesn't exist?" America was right. He would disappear. America was gone…Arthur thought bitterly. He was glad that US was back, of course, but losing America was still heart breaking.

US shook his head. "Maybe I worded that wrong." He tried again. "America didn't disappear. He's still here. It's just that…" He struggled to find the right way to said it. "He's me now. We have made a deal. We are now the same. He with me and I'm with him." He closed his eyes. "I am I. He is I. We are now one. There's no more US and America. We're just Alfred. There is no more we, but there is now an I. I am cured."

England found himself musing over what US said. He struggled to comprehend what Alfred had just said. Arthur felt that Alfred said too much in one breath for him to take it all in. The two personalities have formed together. They were now apparently the same. It made England wonder.

"What really happened to him?" Arthur asked. "Did he just disappear?"

"We merged together." Alfred said. "Like I said before, we are now the same."

"You said you were cured." England said.

"Yes," US replied.

"D.I.D. can be cured." England recited the words from the documents. "There are many methods of curing the disorder."

"Having the two personalities recognize the other's existence is the essential step to curing the patient." US knew what to say. "Therapy sessions may be used to slowly attempt to cure the patient, trying to find the roots of the disorder. Medicine may be used to help the process." Alfred said the next line. "Some doctors have tried to talk to the other personality. Patients who are still in close contact with the abuser tend to show poor progress in recovery…"

Arthur frowned at the last line. "Was I that bad to you?" He turned his face away. He felt guilty for causing Alfred to develop this disorder if he was the cause of it.

Alfred realized what England was thinking. "No," His eyes widened. "It's not your fault…" He tried to comfort his lover. "It was my fault. I was the one who wanted to break away from you, but I felt guilty anyway because I knew I was hurting you for that." He bitterly said. "It's my fault."

Perhaps Alfred was over reacting to the tax from England… But his gut feeling told him otherwise. The young man felt that the freedom was worth it. He told himself that it was for best between them. He thought that the electricity running through his veins after gaining his official status as a nation was the best feeling ever. He thought it was a fight worth fighting for. Alfred felt that he could be something more than just England's little colony. He wanted to be more than just Arthur's little brother. He wanted to be independent.

"You can't blame it on one person." England thought out loud. "Everything is caused by multiple factors. Pointing the cause of something by one object would be pulling all of the weight onto one side of the scale."

US just stared at England.

"Don't be a fool, Alfred." England said. "Don't take all of the blame. None of us can take all of the blame. Don't take all of the credit."

"Remember the past, but get over it. Don't grief over the past." Alfred found himself smiling. He gently pulled England into a kiss. Both of their hearts fluttered when both came into contact. US's lips reshaped England's lips, forming it into a small heart. US's lips felt dry and crackled. Arthur heard Alfred lightly chuckle when their noses nearly bumped into each other in their kiss.

Alfred turned away before they could continue more. "You're very kind to forgive me like that…"

"When was the last time you had therapy?" England asked. He was still a tint pink from kissing the American.

US stopped to think. "Four months ago?" He frowned. "I thought I was done with those…"

"Just take those stupid pills," England grumbled. "Go to that stupid doctor or something if you think you're cured…"

"I am cured." US claimed.

"Have a professional confirm it first before you decide to ditch the medicine." Arthur found himself glowering at the man opposite to his side.

Alfred sighed. "Are you still mad at me?" He couldn't really blame England was being tormented by the news that Alfred was diagnosed with a personality disorder.

"You still remember our conversation at the hospital…" England slightly shifted on the bed. "Right?"

US blinked. "You still mean that? Even now?" His lips quivered and asked. "You still meant it when you said that you…that you forgave me?"

England nodded. "I'm not mad at you anymore. About the revolution." He patted Alfred on the head. Nantucket twitched when Arthur's hand slid through, stroking the cowlick. US turned slightly red. Arthur lightly flicked the stray hair strand. Did he know how US felt about that peculiar area? Then again, Alfred always avoided that spot on purpose.

England didn't seem to notice Alfred's face turning into a bright red color. If the English nation did see it, he didn't show it. Arthur put his cheek against Alfred's. "Is it too hard to believe in me?" He quietly asked US. Their chests were barely a few inches apart; Alfred felt the sudden rush of blood flood into his checks.

"This isn't a dream, is it?" US choked of how close they were. Maybe he was still locked into his own mind and that America was just screwing around with his emotions.

"Is it?" Arthur didn't pay much attention to the effect he had on Alfred. He watched the American's attempt of calming himself down. Funny how Alfred was the one blushing today instead of Arthur. Alfred felt the Englishman's breathe on his bare neck. US felt England's hard glares directed at him. "What do you think you're doing?" England was scowling at him again. "Hiding stuff from me."

"It's the pills, isn't it?" Alfred asked.

"It's not just that." The older man disagreed. "You didn't tell me or your family that you were suffering."

"You know that I was depressed." US pointed it out.

"Alfred, a personality disorder is serious." England argued. "If you didn't tell us, you could have disappeared for good! You're lucky the other Alfred made that deal with you."

"I know." US bit his lips. He was afraid to say more to anger Arthur. Arthur wouldn't be the only one being angry at Alfred for hiding that.

"What would hiding the fact that you have D.I.D. help you?" England wanted to know. "Why didn't you tell us?" He scrunched up his brows. "Is it because you wanted to be the hero and don't hurt anyone? Or is it because you were just too proud of yourself to admit that there was something wrong about you?"

"I didn't want to put the blame on you…" Alfred whispered.

"Huh?" England wasn't expecting that for an answer.

"If I blame myself for the guilt…I would have to tell people that my guilt was because of you." Alfred said. "I didn't want to accept the fact that I felt guilty…I just…"

"Calm down, Alfred." England tried to soothe him down. "Calm down…" He frowned. "There is more to life than worrying about me and your petty guilt. I'll always be with you…"

"I know." Alfred said. "You told me. Both of you."

"Both of me?" Arthur repeated.

"Well, there was another you…when I was in there…" US admitted. He thought of the other England would have ever so willingly talked to him about the same thing Arthur had talked about with America. The two conversations nearly paralleled with each other.

"Another…" Arthur mouthed the word 'me'. He realized. "Alfred…you dreamt about me?" He was flustered. What was US dreaming about?

US smiled. "He's a lot like you. Very pushy. Very blushy. He fussed a lot when I tried to mess around with him." He laughed when Arthur mumbled something about 'that idiot'. "He was very understanding." Alfred continued. "He was very patient with me. He was like you."

"I can't believe I was in your dream." England muttered. He had the impression that US was unconscious in his world. He did not know that Alfred was still alert in that time frame. He was expecting US to be perhaps stuck in a locked up room, or something similar to that. The phrase, 'prisoner of your mind' passed by England's thoughts. What was Alfred doing the whole time while he was unconscious?

The American beamed. "He was like a guardian angel. We talked for awhile and got to know each other a little bit better. He helped me out of this situation." He stopped to pause before adding. "You were an angel." England noticed that Alfred looked unsure when he said that. "In literal terms."

England dryly asked. "Britannia Angel?" He remembered that angel incident a few years ago… Not that anything happened there. What are you looking at? Nothing happened! Nothing at all!

Arthur asked. "What did he do?" That angel was a mystery. Even England wasn't quite sure who Britannia Angel was or why he existed. The angel was supposed to exist in dreams and make wishes come true. And why did that angel looked like him? England found himself annoyed that there was something out there that looked exactly like him. Alfred liked to joke that whenever England was drunk, Britannia Angel showed up. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't. Apparently, Britannia Angel had come to Alfred's aid when he needed him.

"He shot me." Alfred flatly said. "It was supposed to bring me back."

"Oh." England could not bring himself to add more to that sentence. Now America's comment made sense. America claimed to England the other days that US had shot himself. Now England knew. It wasn't US. It was someone else. Or was that just Alfred's mind's response to the medicine? Was it the pill's doing of making Alfred to force himself out of his dreamscape state? The chances of England ever getting an answer to those questions were slim and unlikely. It was most likely that nobody knew the answer to those floating questions. The mind was confusing to understand at times…

"Tell me about the world." England nudged US to tell him. "Tell me what has happened to you."

"Later," Alfred said. "It's a long story."

"We have all morning." England assured him. "You were knocked out for a long time. It's been nearly twelve hours since you were awake."

"You weren't hurt?" US asked the man besides him. "The car didn't get you?" He saw the bright red car zoom by when he and England were going home.

"No." Arthur said. "I'm not hurt." He rubbed the thin scars left from yesterday. The sketched lines on his arms were already fading away from his fair colored skin.

"Do you really want to hear about where I have been?" Alfred pondered. "I thought I really was in the past. Everything looked like it was the year 1783. I really did think that I was somehow time traveling and I had to deal with you. I kept thinking that you had days left to stay in America and that you needed to return to England."

"Idiot." England insulted the American man. "You can't time travel. What happened to your science?"

Alfred shrugged. "Maybe we could do that someday."

The Englishman's eyes hardened into emeralds. "I rather not." He buried his head into Alfred's shoulder. "Think of all of the opportunities you could get killed before your own existence."

"Yeah, yeah." US sighed. "Time paradox, I know. We talked about this. But still…" He looked almost hopeful. "I could go back and stop myself from hurting you. Or even stop you from taxing us."

"That might have stopped your growth and maybe just stay as my brother. You would have never grown up as fast as you had." England said. "I felt no need change the past. Why change it when I already enjoy the present? If you changed that, we wouldn't be together."

"I suppose so," Alfred sadly smiled. It was pretty depressing that their relationship only happened because of their initial break up. "I would still be a child." He tried to imagine being a child or a teenager in the present time. In a world where Arthur didn't neglect him as a colony or where the English nation wouldn't tax him as much. It would be a strange universe, and their relationship would probably have remained on family terms.

"Messing with time is like messing with the universe itself." England decided. "No one should have to power to control so many lives. It's like killing a whole forest if you cut off one of its root."

"This isn't just about the past anymore, is it?" US was beginning to get used to hearing his own voice again. He kissed the tip of the Englishman's messy hair, nuzzling his face into the soft haystack. "I have to worry about the future too. I have a country to worry about. I have to worry about you and the other nations too."

"I'll be on your side." England laid his hand on Alfred's. He gripped the American's hand tightly. "I told you. I'll always be there with you."

"Hmmm." Alfred threw his arms around the gentleman. His arms wrapped tightly around the Englishman like a boa constrictor. His fingertips were digging deeply into Arthur's shirt, determined to grip onto the older nation's existence. Alfred wanted to get a feel for England's flesh. He wanted to see and touch England's hot sweaty skin. He wanted to taste the man's warm moist breathe. He wanted to be sure that all of this was real and that this wasn't another dream that would someday scatter into the winds like remnant feathers. US's head was resting on Arthur's shoulders; he blew a gentle kiss on the Englishman's neck.

"Arthur," US nibbled on England's ear. He felt the Brit's body stiffen, but relaxed again.

"Alfred," England said. "What are you doing?" Alfred's hands were still gripping onto England's shirt as if his life depended on it. He felt slightly nervous being so close to Alfred. It was has awhile since they were been this close to each other. Alfred has been distant from Arthur for awhile…

"Kiss me." US whispered. It wasn't a request. "Let me get a hold of you." He loosened to his grip to hold back Arthur's wrist. "I want to do it now."

England's eyes widened. Now? "Now?" His shook his head. "Alfred, not now." He told him. "You just came back…it's morning…"

"I don't care," Alfred cried. "It has been too long since I have seen you. Please," He begged. "Just for awhile. I'm sorry the trouble I have caused…" England heard the desperation coming out of the American's mouth.

"I can forgive you," England said. "But you will have to wait." He wouldn't give in. "No sex until you tell me what happened to you."

"How much do you want to know?" Alfred asked.

England sighed. "Don't make this sound like I'm forcing you to confess something."

"It's not a confession…" Alfred thought. "It's just strange. Weird."

"You said you were in the past like world." England just stared at the golden haired man, waiting for more. Arthur looked so strangely small in Alfred's arms. "You really thought that you have time traveled?" He was still in the American man's arms.

"How can you blame me?" US tried to understand his own thoughts. "Everything was perfectly set up to match the time. The war just ended. I was in the same barn with you. I had the wound. It was like 1783 all over again."

"You went to the harbor town?" England quietly asked.

"Yes." Alfred said. "We stopped by a town to restock supplies, but we winded up having to deal with the angry villagers…"

"Oh yes," England rubbed his forehead in thought. "Angry villagers." England had gone across several scenarios, similar to what Alfred was talking about. His story was nothing new. It was a common event for him and his men for awhile, especially when he carried the status as an empire.

"England actually didn't know who I for awhile." Alfred left no emotion on his face when he said that. It was rather bittersweet when England found out who he was. "I pretended to be one of my colonies."

England found himself laughing. "And I fell for that?"

Alfred shrugged. "It was a dream. I wasn't recognizable to him, anyway."

"If you say so." Arthur was still smirking. Stealthy Alfred? It didn't sound like his usual style. Not that Alfred didn't have the ability to be stealthy. He just chose to not use that skill much.

"England found out anyway." US quickly added after he saw the Englishman chuckling. "He dragged out information of our relation…"

"That must have been something." England mumbled. Even in his dream world, Alfred was still tormented by his conscious thoughts of their relation. Arthur held Alfred's hand as a show of comfort.

"England was real ticked off of my low faith on him and you." Alfred laughed it off. "He snapped the reality into me. Literally."

"By shooting you." Arthur pointed it out and glared at the American nation. "Your mind is so strange."

US beamed at Arthur. "The strangest." He gave England a quick peck on the lips. "I love you Arthur."

England turned away. "I know." His eyes were hidden by his messy hair. "I thought you knew that I loved you. We have been together since 1945. Isn't that enough to lift your doubt? We formed that relation. Despite our messy past as enemies. We went through several wars together. We are more than just allies."

"You spent years mourning over the lost of me." Alfred said. "Every year. On my birthday…I would get calls of you being drunk. Because of me. I thought I have done something wrong…"

"I know I wasn't the best either," England bit his lips. "I guess none of us dealt with this very well."

"From now on," Alfred said. "Let's both try to be better to each other. Let's both forget about that stupid war, and stop hiding things from each other."

"Is that a promise?" Arthur ears perked.

US smiled. "It's a promise. It's not flawless, but I hope it's enough. For us."

England's lips formed into a matching smile. "It will be a promise." He agreed. "For us and for us alone."

"We will have a whole future ahead of us." Alfred said.

"I'm curious of why you chose the revolution time of all time periods…" England trailed off.

"Well…" US pondered. "It was the last thing I had in mind before I left you." Alfred admitted. "I asked you about the revolution on that day. We have been spending lots of time together, but sometimes, I still wonder about how strong our relation really is. After all of that…" He was left in his train of thoughts. England saw Alfred's tense shoulders rise up in frustration.

"Stop thinking so much about why and how." Arthur said after moments of silence. "Not everything has to have a logical reason to why it happens. Can you explain why you chose me instead of France when we first found you?"

"Well," He paused. "No." US was sincere. He honestly didn't know why he chose England instead of the French nation. Perhaps it was Arthur's cool green eyes that caught his attention. He was so used to seeing darker colored eyes. The new eyes shone and grabbed Alfred's attention. England offered Alfred comfort and familiarity; he was older than Alfred and always seemed to know the solution to everything. He lived many years before the American did. Arthur's presence gave Alfred a sense of security.

"Learn to trust your heart." England gently told US. "I know it sounds silly and perhaps a bit cliché, but I suppose it's the only thing I can say to you. Don't doubt yourself. If you have no trust in yourself, then who is there to trust?"

Alfred felt a smile form at his mouth. "You really are too kind for your own good." At least when it came to Alfred, anyway.

"I'm only saying how it is." Arthur replied.

"And you make it sound so easy." The American's smile widened into a grin; his blue eyes glistened with brilliance.

"How did you get out of there?" The English gentleman asked the American. "What kind of promise did you made with the other Alfred?"

"Like I said." US repeated. "We merged. I would stop running from reality like a coward. Both of us would fight to the future. My past will always follow me. I can't escape it, but I can still use it to help me."

"That's quite a speech there, Alfred." England mused. "Good for an idiot."

Alfred raised his eyebrows at the former empire. "Do you just enjoy insulting me?"

"Hm." England replied. He embraced Alfred, who slightly flinched at the sudden movement from the Englishman. "Let's just forget about being nations for awhile."

Alfred's still stiff body struggled to calm down. He slowly nodded. "Yeah."

"Who's my git?" Arthur whispered. "Your other personality was after me, you know."

US blushed. "Yeah…I know…" He tried not to think about it. "He has my attachments to you." America's attachment to England was comparable to a lost child, but there were also hints of lust and obsession tailing behind. America's feelings were his feelings now. It wasn't the dominant feeling, but it was still there, all right.

"Oh, really?" England stared at US's eyes, green meeting blue.

"That kiss he asked from you…" Alfred trailed off.

Arthur smiled a rare smile. "Jealous?" There was a small hint of mischief flashed in the smaller man's eyes.

Alfred frowned. "No." He thought about it. He wasn't jealous. That kiss was his kiss too.

England unrealistically grinned even more. "You want me to kiss you again?" Arthur didn't wait for an answer. He threw himself to Alfred and both of their lips met.

Alfred was startled by England's sudden eagerness, but gave in, he found himself melting into the Englishman's mouth, asking for more. It wasn't the like first two kisses from earlier, in which both of them were soft and gentle. Slow and patient. This kiss was hard and fast. Eager and impatient. Present and demanding. England had offered the kiss, but US was taking over. When their lips came into contact, Alfred went straight into his part. Alfred molded the other man's lips, pressing and reshaping them. His dry prickly lips licked England with the intensity of a candlelight; tiny, but lingering with hunger, flickering in and out, taking in as much as he can without doing much damage. Warm and with passion. Arthur felt his cheeks light up and glow like fire. Arthur was too overwhelmed by US's kiss to hide his blush.

The Englishman felt Alfred's warm breath over his moist lips. Arthur's still held the same scent of spring; it reminded Alfred of the old days. The days before Alfred had grown up. The days before Alfred left. Before the war. Before the revolution. Before his departure. England had always smelled like spring. He always had the scent of some sort of greenery after a long night rain shower. Today, Arthur smelled like clovers. It matched his eyes. A dull chill was sent down Arthur's spine. Arthur's tongue reached out and searched for Alfred's, finding its way through the American's mouth. The Englishman felt his tongue brush against a rough surface, narrowly avoiding getting scraped by Alfred's teeth. Arthur felt his dry throat protest to him that there he needed liquid. England briefly stopped what he was doing to swallow his saliva; his throat bitterly accepted the thick substance.

Noticing Arthur's pause, Alfred pressed his palm against the Englishman's chest as though to push himself away. England shook his head. He didn't need a break. Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand and shook his head again. Instead, he took Alfred by the wrist and pulled himself forward, holding Alfred close to him. His tongue dove back into its intention and reached out for Alfred. Alfred understood him and both of their mouths connected. Their tongues met and wrestled for power, both determined to win dominance. Arthur's tongue flicked the other with the lash of a whip, quick and sharp. Alfred fought back and took all of the lashes inflicted by Arthur. Saliva and lust foamed at the roof of Arthur's mouth.

For a moment, Arthur had forgotten how to breathe. Saliva and sweat dripped down their lips; both were out of breath. "Fuck." Arthur almost bit his tongue off. His teeth were shivering. The once cool room in the fall rose to a warmer heat of summer. The English nation felt his eyes tearing up.

"Mmm…" Alfred commented. He kissed Arthur on the head. The American already had his shirt torn off. America patted England on the head and began to strip the Englishman.

He started from the bottom of England's shirt and began to work his way up, slowly unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. It was obvious that Alfred wasn't planning to make this fast. Today would be a slow day. Alfred knew England's body inside out; he finally unbuttoned England's shirt to review a much scarred body before him. The markings were etched all over his body; some were old and were etched on his arms like tattoos, some fading out and barely recognized by the American. Younger scars broke out of his skin, blistered all over his ancient body, black ink blots spilling out in various spots. Numbers and dates appeared on his body like a calendar, marking the number of years that has passed.

"Arthur," Alfred sighed. "These scars…" This was not the first time he had seen them.

"You have them too." Arthur whispered. He traced the marking of the War of 1812 on Alfred's chest. Alfred remembered the singed feeling in his gut when he had received that blow. No matter how many years have passed, that area of his body still held the same burnt scar; it was now fading away.

Alfred kissed the scars near England's heart and sighed. "We can't escape reality." He stroked England's chest and nibbled on the man's nibble. He watched England groaned in reply.

Arthur's head was past Alfred's shoulders; he angrily cursed at the American when Alfred began to lick the sensitive spot. Alfred cupped Arthur's nipple and plucked the Englishman's sensitive spot with his thumb, sucking the nibble and watched the brown nipple harden in response to the pressure. The hard surface of the nibble left a raw taste at the tip of Alfred's tongue.

"Damn you, Alfred." Arthur moaned again. Alfred kissed the Englishman at the base of his neck. He knew that England had an orgasm for that peculiar spot. Funny how things turned out between them.

"Want to know something?" Alfred quietly asked. Arthur didn't answer. "I love you."

"I know that, git." England moaned when US rubbed his groin against his, still fully clothed and everything. "Stop teasing me." He could barely pronounce his words properly. He felt his groin jerk up in response to the American's touch. It was always so hard to focus when he was near Alfred's presence. Both of them were barely sweating from close contact with one another. England was so close to US that he could hear the younger man's heartbeats.

"What do you want me to do, instead?" Alfred pressed his hands against England's chest, making him down onto his back.

England could feel the young man's breathe beating down his face; it smelled of hamburgers, apple pie, and of a freshly mowed lawn. It screamed, America! Arthur felt his heart accelerate at the man's presence. Alfred was nearly sitting on top of the Englishman; Texas was still balancing on the bridge of the American's nose. His wild azure eyes peeked at England; at the moment, they were big and wide, staring at England as if he was the most interesting thing in the world, taking in every detail of England, taking note of all of the man's habits and personality, taking in his scent, enjoying his presence at every moment. Arthur noticed that Alfred himself was quite as flustered as he was. Both of them felt the tense atmosphere of the room, neither of them moved for a few moments of silence.

Alfred slid his arm down England's pants; Arthur's crotch was probably his destination. Feeling his way through, the American felt his hands touch the Englishman's thighs, favoring its not so smooth texture, appreciating its imperfect sculpture. But that wasn't what Alfred was looking for. He went further down, still searching for what he wanted. England waited. The American's cold hands were beginning to heat up from holding onto England, but they remained cooler in contrast to Arthur's hot skin.

Arthur knew when Alfred was there, because when his hand came into contact with flesh, England moaned out in pleasure; he wanted to cover that spot out of habit. He watched Alfred look at him at eyelevel and whispered, "Do you want to continue?" Alfred quietly asked Arthur. His wide eyes questioned him with sincerity and concern. Even Texas couldn't hide the American's gaze at England. Alfred was still kneeling down on England's chest, perfect at ease, revealing no sense of awkwardness or shyness. Alfred's hand was still holding onto Arthur's crotch, stroking it and skimming the tip of it with his shortly trimmed fingernails.

England's face was all red and was completely flustered. He found it very difficult to comprehend what Alfred had just said to him. Nothing seemed to hold much meaning anymore. He found his tongue unable to untwist itself. "Is there anything to stop us?"

Alfred understood Arthur's answer and quickly unbuckled the former empire's belt off and threw it away, slamming against the weak wall of the room on the opposite side of their bed. The wall quivered. Once the belt was out of the way, without hesitance, the Englishman stripped his pants off, adding his pants to the growing pile of clothes besides their bed. England watched Alfred throw his pants aside too. Both were now all naked except for the boxers they have still retained. Alfred must have been saving this was last.

"Alfred." England tried to retain his speaking ability. He patted the American's cheek. "Don't leave me." Alfred's disappearance had worried him. His take on with reality was getting wobbly; it always had for Alfred, England's knees were shaking. England thought he heard the walls around him shake along with his vision.

"I won't leave you." Alfred said. He planted another kiss; this time, it was on the Englishman's forehead. Arthur was sweating bullets; Alfred delicately licked the acidic sweat, taking in the former empire's worries by substance. Everything about England tasted good. Their relation was a mix of both love and lust. It was inevitable.

"Now…" Arthur slowly prepared himself to take off his boxers.

Before more could be done, the room can shook itself again. Both of them stopped at what they were doing. What was happening? "Open Up!" The room shifted itself again. Earthquake? It didn't feel like one. The floor quivered beneath them.

"Open up!" There was hard knock at the door. Both of the nations realized. It wasn't an earthquake. Someone was at the door.

"Can somebody…?" They heard him grumble. The door fell down to the floor, revealing a very tired and wary New York at the door. His messy pale blond hair was hanging on the side of his head; his hair was dripping wet from the shower. His pale blue eyes were wide and were constantly blinking several times a second. The state was wearing a light blue bathrobe and wore a very annoyed expression on his pale face.

US barely found his voice and croaked. "N-new York?" He felt New York scanned over them with his hawk eyes. Both he and England were stripped naked. To the bone. England was ready to take off his boxers, US was in a rather awkward position of being on top of him, and New York was very sure that US's hand was digging into England's pants. Alfred watched his adopted son's eyes widen in shocked. The New Yorker's mouth was opened wide like a guppy.

"I. I-" New York couldn't find the words. He just gawked at the suddenly awkward situation. He didn't know what his father was back. He still thought that this was America, US realized. Because he heard his son mumbles a jumble of unintelligent words of 'taking advantage of that alter'.

Arthur heard the state's mumbling and tried to push Alfred off of him, without much success. "I-I swear! This isn't what it looks like! I can explain!" The Englishman stumbled all over his words; he felt blood rush up to this cheeks more than before.

New York just screamed and ran to tackle that bastard who dare decided to take advantage of his father.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

(1) – The 2005 World Summit meeting took place sometime in September. This story has taken place for roughly two weeks, so it is currently near the end of September in this story.

(2) – Compared to most states, California doesn't have a very apparent accent. It has two distinctive stereotypes of a surfer accent and a valley girl dialect, but for the most part, California has no accent. Because California is home to Hollywood, this means that most of the US and the world is used to listening to the actor's speech pattern from Hollywood. So that makes California have 'no accent'.

**

* * *

**

**Notes: **Nothing much to say about this chapter. Except that there's plenty of talking and a bit of making up. In more ways than one –gets shot-. Fail romantic scene is fail.

Yosh! Chapter 18 is finished! Alfred comes back, and he tries to make it up with Arthur, but somebody interrupts them! Oh New York, it must suck to find yourself in such an awkward position. To be honest with you, I'm not that satisfied with this chapter, but I hope it turned out okay. Hopefully, things get better in the next chapter!

US: Why did you have to stop there? Continue!

RS: Zzz… -hugs panda plushie-

US: Hey! I'm talking to you!

UK: Leave her alone. I think she's tired from all that writing. –states at panda- Isn't that Hong Kong's?

US: Maybe she stole it from him!

RS: -hits US on the head- I did not. –goes back to sleep-

US: Ouch, that hurts…-rubs head- I thought she was asleep.

RS: -hits US again- I was asleep. Stop bothering me. I'm trying to sleep. –rolls back into her bed like a Tarepanda-

US: Is this, 'pick on US' day or something?

RS: I'm tired…I need to sleep… Damn you, college apps.

US: -sweatdrops- Authors are scary when they don't get their sleep.

UK: Indeed. –starts eating fish and chips-

US: This isn't the last chapter, is it? –eats a burger-

UK: According to her notes, we still have 2 more.

US: Why would she need so many chapters to cover the aftermath? -bits into burger-

UK: Who knows. –munches on the chips-

RS: Thanks for the reviews! -hugs Tarepanda and uses it as a pillow- Zzz…

US&UK: …

* * *

**Well, looks like Alfred is back into the real world. Please read and review. I love you guys for your comments and reading of your reactions to the plot. I know this feels like the end, but we're still not quite done yet. We are now 90% done with the story. 2 more chapters left. I repeat. 2 chapters left. I never thought I would come this far into a story. Thank you for staying with my story! I admire you guys for your patience. Tarepanda FTW! **


	19. Chapter 19: Senses

**Lucid Memories**

**Chapter 19: Senses**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers._

_*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred._

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by the one and only Himaruya-sensei. All characters are licensed under Himaruya-sensei and New York was based off of Top-Cap's character design.

* * *

**WARNING: RATING BOOSTED UP TO NC-17. MATURE CONTENTS IN THIS CHAPTER. STRONG LANGUAGE AND GRAPHIC SEX. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**

* * *

**

"This isn't what it looks like!" Alfred insisted again. His pink cheeks were all puffy like cotton balls. They flared out like cherries. England was equally as red as his partner.

"Oh really?" New York felt his thin eyebrows rose up in doubt. He didn't move from his spot. "Because it awfully looks like you two are about to have sex." His eyes brought their attention to the pile of clothes piling next to the couple's bed. Alfred was still sitting on Arthur, who was lying on his back. Albert couldn't believe that he was stuck in such a situation.

The teenager was exhausted. It was eight in the morning; he was having a wonderful dream of coffee and baseball, but was woken up from his paradise by grunts and moans from next door! Already awaken, Albert decided to go take a shower in hopes that it was all in his head, and that those noises were just figments of his imagination. But…after turning on the shower head, the noise next door only got worse. And louder. The New Yorker ran out of the showers. God. He knew that England had a kink for his father, but so much that he would actually take advantage with his father's alternate personality? How despicable! He wanted to murder the English nation. Right on the spot. Now New York wasn't a monster truck like his father; he wasn't as strong, but a punch would do for now. He was pretty proud of that throbbing red bruise rising on the Englishman's arm.

New York groaned. "How could you do this England?" He wanted to tear off his hair in frustration. "Taking advantage of America! He's only a child!" By Albert's standards, he saw America as a younger person. A pushover. Someone who he categorized as a child. America lacked experience. By New York's book, lacking experience didn't make you a man. US had experience. He spent years in war and had several past relationships. US had experience. US was an adult. America was a child, New York insisted. Albert didn't know that America liked England too. He also didn't know that America and US were now the same.

"Albert," England tried to settle down the angry blond. "America is certainly not a child. And I am not taking advantage of your father. This is not America. This is US." He attempted to keep his cool with the state. "Alfred is back." He waited for Albert's response.

"What do you mean Alfred's back?" New York demanded to know. Albert was not in a good mood. He gave a careless glance at England who was still rubbing his sore arm. England had narrowly missed being punched in the face. Instead, New York caught him by the arm. Either way, it was painful and annoying.

England just scowled at the New Yorker and repeated. "Like I said, Alfred is back. This is US."

New York remained skeptical. "How are we supposed to be sure about this?" Perhaps this was a false hope? It felt too good to believe.

"Why don't you go ask him yourself?" England suggested. For a man who was almost entirely stripped naked and has been caught about having sex with another man, the former empire was rather calm for that moment. The Englishman was now sitting up and had his legs crossed in an Indian style. All of the former red in his puffy eyes and cheeks were gone, leaving no trace of messing around with US.

New York's eyes slid to the side, glaring at his father, who was now sitting on the side of the bed that US and England were sharing. The state watched his father look back and forth at him and England. Alfred was quiet. New York stopped to think about yesterday. The day when Alfred was excused from the hospital. Albert nearly had a panic attack when England greeted him at the door with an unconscious Alfred slung on his back. It took a great deal of effort to convince the New Yorker that Alfred was fine, that he had just fainted, and that all the nation needed was rest. England insisted that he would stay by Alfred's side.

Ugh, his father was such a bother sometimes. Nothing was ever simple with Alfred. He glared at Alfred. Arthur. Both of them. The two of them gulped.

* * *

"Alfred," England grunted. "That. Was perhaps. The most idiotic thing. You have ever done."

"The most idiotic thing _we_ have ever done." US corrected.

"Ugh!" Arthur rubbed his temples. "It doesn't matter! It's your bloody fault! Getting carried away with your desires." His face was already turning rosy at the thoughts of it. England's skin was so pale. It didn't take much blood to watch the man turn pink. It was very amusing. And appealing to the American nation.

Alfred sulked. "Didn't you like it?" He looked like a rejected child. His chin was low and his eyes were projected at the ground.

England didn't answer.

It took quite a lot of talking and persuading to convince New York that US, was indeed back, and that the two Alfreds have merged together.

"Go to the doctor. Get some test scans." The teenager spitted out earlier that day. _Get a room_, he silently added. New York was still obviously trying not to think about the embarrassing scene he had interrupted.

The plan was that Alfred would visit his doctor again sometime that week to get himself tested to see if he was cured of his condition. For now, US and England would remain at Alfred's West Virginia house and enjoy themselves. Albert excused himself from the house. The New Yorker didn't want to be stuck underneath the same roof with the couple. That meant having to listen more to their, um…intimacy. It would be very distracting. And disturbing. Albert would still stay at Alfred's place; he just wanted to get away as much as he could. New York was glad that his father was back, but he felt that he needed to leave his father alone with England. England probably missed Alfred more than Albert did himself. Their relationship was close. England had the right to spend as much time as he could with US. England wouldn't stay in North America forever; he would have to catch a plane ride sometime this week. After Alfred was done with his testing.

"This time, let me top." Arthur lowered his voice. His smooth face gave away no hints of anger from before.

Alfred didn't object. There was no preference in him of who would top or who would bottom. Both of them have had their equal share of both roles. Tonight, England would get his chose.

At the moment, New York was gone. Albert made up an excuse of having to shop for more food and aspirin. At twelve. At night. Alfred somehow had a feeling that his son had just said that as a polite way to get out of the couple's way. As far as Alfred knew, New York might have been running off to West Virginia for his own comfort and sanity. But Alfred almost didn't care anymore. He did not see beyond what he saw. All he could see was what he saw in front of him: Arthur. The Englishman's green eyes were practically glowing in the darkness of their room. His soft green irises charmed Alfred the way a fire might have to a moth. They were like emerald fire, hungry light flaring up, taking in all of what they could consume. He couldn't take his eyes off of his partner. Alfred felt attracted to the light and gravitation England provided. Nothing could separate the American from the English nation. They were now sharing the guest room, since there was no room for both of them in Alfred's bedroom. The guest room had a king's bed.

"Alfred," England talked into US's ear. "You're always so reckless with this type of stuff." He softly planted a kiss into the tip of the American man's head. Both of them have settled into the bed a long time ago. It wasn't until America suggested that they were to do it, had Arthur agreed to do so. They spent the whole day arguing and debating with Albert of what to do with Alfred. Now New York was gone. Arthur discarded his clothes and casually tossed it to the floor, watching the loose ruffles of his shirt run loose off of his slender body, sliding silently onto the cool floor below. Alfred watched the moonlight gaze down upon Arthur's bare back; light shadows bounced off of his body, revealing thins lines covering his thin body, fading scars that have healed and recovered long ago. England did not share the same broad shoulder as US did, but he certainly wasn't scrawny. Arthur had strong shoulders; he wasn't as muscular as Alfred was; his body had a wirier and thinner built.

England's short cornflower blond hair was a lion's mane; it was all over the place, sticking up in all directions, showing no chance of being tamed. His pale skin had no tan lingering under like Alfred's did. The two of them looked good together: butterscotch and gold hair; apricot and creamy skin. Alfred couldn't help but be amused that romantic novels loved to use jewels and food words to describe colors and textures of their love interest. The American was falling into another cliché. He was the home of clichés and overused names and terms. At least that's what he thought, anyway.

The American couldn't stop chuckling when he realized that England's boxers had the Union Jack on them.

Arthur scowled. "What's so funny?" He slid his hand down, clawing his short fingernails into Alfred's wide back. His thick eyebrows twitched in annoyance. US didn't flinch to England's sharp nails.

"And you accuse me of being arrogant." Alfred grinned and cheerfully pecked the Englishman on the cheeks. Arthur's pale cheeks glowed tickle me pink.

The former empire huffed. "There's nothing wrong of being patriotic." He pointed at the younger man's boxers. "Like you're any better." They resembled the American flag. Alfred's boxers sported thirteen red and white stripes and patriotic royal blue in the corner with all fifty bright stars displayed.

Alfred beamed. Arthur glowered. They spent several minutes just glaring at each other; it was a staring contest. Blue vs. green. It was hard to keep glaring at Arthur, especially when the English nation had a tangled mess of hair flying from his head. Alfred thought it made him look cute. He saw England's nose twitched in annoyance at the childish game. Alfred's smile widened.

"Ha." Alfred said after awhile when England finally blinked. "I win."

"Idiot." England muttered.

US just grinned even more. "But I'm your idiot." He proudly claimed. The American rubbed his cheek on Arthur's nose; he kissed Arthur's small nose. Alfred bended down to lay his cheek against England's; Arthur's cheeks were strangely cool as glass. He took a big breathe to take in all of England's scent. Arthur's scent was like perfume to him. It smelled of Great Britain's million fields of wild grass and flowers. There were hints of oil and leather in the former empire's scent, but US was used to it. All world power nations bore that distinct smell of oil. They couldn't live without it.

Both of them laughed at each other.

"Wait until the world hears this," Alfred mused. "Two nations having an affair with each other."

"That already happened before you, Alfred." England corrected him. He thought of the other nations that have had relationships. He thought of the many ancient nations that have come into existence before England and America. He wondered if they too, had complicated relationship problems like them (1).

But…at the moment. England didn't want to think of their relation as a foreign relation. He didn't see their relationship as a political affair. He saw their relation as a relation between a two people. Between two lovers.

England focused his attention on Alfred. Tall, blond. Wide shoulders. Nice even skin stretched over firm pack of muscles. Alfred's once neat boyish hair style, bangs neatly combed to the side and perfectly divided at the center of his head, was now a mess from the day's stress. His hair was all over the place, except that one strand of hair, Nantucket, was stubborn to keep down and was proudly standing up high from the roots of his head. It was hard to believe that US was once small enough to be held in his arms. Now US was way too big to be carried by anyone. Alfred's wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked so young without them. They were stored in Alfred's drawer that was located beside the bed.

Without Texas, Alfred's azure eyes hid nothing from Arthur's views. They were the type of eyes that seem to see though you, but at the same time, didn't seem to see much. They held the brightness of a child, but the soul of an adult's eyes. He had seen much, but at the same time, had seen little. His eyes wore an expression of peacefulness. There was no hint of wariness or tiredness from Alfred. He was still up and awake. Arthur saw a small smile tug on Alfred's lips. He was certainly happy to see England again. Arthur gently smiled with him back. Arthur was happy to see US too. Arthur wanted to take in every detail of Alfred. He wanted to look at him forever and remember that US was his. Alfred was always his. He was once his colony. He was once his brother. Later his enemy. Then his ally. They were friends, but that eventually lead to something more, linked by their history together since the beginning of Alfred's existence. Funny how they have always ended up together in some sort of way.

"Are you going to be staring at me all day?" Alfred's voice popped in. He impatiently kept his eyes on the English man. He too, was looking at Arthur.

"Be patient Alfred," Arthur spoke. His ashen bangs fell over his left eye. "We have all night." He pressed his lips on Alfred's forehead. The English gentleman ran his mouth through the roots of his lover, kissing the American man's gold kiss hair. Mmm. It was not a scent of cologne England had known of. It smelled of those detested hamburgers of his, and apple pie. It smelled of apple blossoms and of sweet rain in the late spring. It was an odd combination, yet it made sense being together. It was somehow attractive to England. There were hints of fertile soil and greenery in the man's scent. He smelled of gasoline and leather oil. His sweat tasted like oil. It was unnatural of England to savor the taste of Alfred. No human would have enjoyed the taste of something like that. Arthur wasn't human.

"Albert,…" Alfred was getting concern of his son's whereabouts.

Arthur found himself kiss and stroking Alfred's hair over and over again. His began sucking on Alfred's neck; his nails gently flicked at the sensitive skin, watching the light toned skin turn red. "I don't think Albert will be back anytime soon…" Arthur said mindlessly. He was right. Albert was hiding out there somewhere with West Virginia, probably trying to distract himself by watching Home Alone 2 (D.C. was probably stealing all of his popcorn), but England and US didn't know that. They thought he was still shopping for groceries.

Alfred winced when England pounced on him, launching his upper jaw at the American's left shoulder. Red hot lines flashed through Alfred, leaving him blank and unsure of how to respond to the Englishman's sudden attack. A flash of pain ran across his veins in panic, static rushed to his blood. Arthur let go of Alfred as quickly as he attached himself to the American. Alfred's first thought was to look at the damage done. He quickly checked the side of his neck, where the pain had rooted from. England left a surprisingly light marking of short jagged lines etched on his skin; the markings were uneven and shallow, nothing too deep. Tiny drops of blood dripped out. Alfred realized. They were teeth marks.

"What the hell was that?" US growled. England was so aggressive when he topped.

"Sorry, love," England lovingly kissed Alfred's sore spot, repeating his name with obsession. His eyelashes flickered, lightly brushing against Alfred's firm chest, making Alfred's heart flutter to the gentle action. "I won't be rough tonight. Promise." Arthur patted Alfred's shoulder with satisfaction. The light teeth marks were his way of claiming US as his. Alfred was _his_. And only _his_. No one else could touch him. After all, the sun never sets for the British Empire.

Alfred quietly swore underneath his breathe. Stupid sadistic empire.

US's hands fumbled into England's hair, making the Englishman's hair messier than before. "Sadistic empire." He grumbled. Alfred was definitely red; Nantucket seemed to have agreed with him and jerked away from England, desperate to separate itself from its owner. Both of them seem to have sense England's aggression.

"This can make up for you lying to me." Arthur charmingly replied. He too, was as red as Alfred, but he was wearing a big smirk on his face. His 'empire smirk', Alfred coined it. His victory smirk. Alfred could too easily picture the English nation wearing the same smirk, thin folded layers of his skin spread and pressed across his thin face, having his enemies begging down on their knees, back when Arthur was still an empire. His lips that were once at the base of Alfred's neck were now tracing up the American man's throat, passionately brushing his lips against it, making his way up to Alfred's mouth.

"Bastard." Alfred said without venom. His voice was oddly flat. "You're enjoying this."

"That's right," England's grin widened. "I am enjoying this." He quickly turned away. Arthur was teasing him. Alfred's face didn't say so, but the American nearly wanted to force the English nation to bend down and kiss him already. He wanted to make Arthur lean over and take all of him already. Just be done with it and take him away. The American's crotch twitched with impatience; it could already sense the tension between them, and they haven't even gone that far yet. Alfred could feel the heat radiating from his partner, contrasting to the cold weather outside. Oh, how much he wanted to get closer to that heat and clutch it to his chest in eternality.

Arthur continued. "I let you did this to me the last time I visited." Memories of their other chaotic nights flashed through both of their minds. Memories of love and lust lingered in their thoughts, floating with blood and sweat, begging for more and more. England's lantern green eyes flickered. "Now it's my turn."

The former empire propped himself onto Alfred's chest; his arms were crossed. Arthur casually lifted Afred's head. He brushed the American man's hair to the side to get a better view of his face. Beautiful. Alfred's once narrow blue eyes have retrieved to wider and bigger pupils; his cheeks were puffy again and there was sweat dripping at his forehead. His messy hair was perfect. It was a mess. It was uncontrollable. Like their relationship. They relationship was anything but perfect. It was rocky and complicated. Both of them had shared a messy history.

They have never had a boring predictable relationship. Their love was no yellow brick road. There were no arrows pointing in one direction for them to follow. There was an Emerald City, but the problem was, they didn't know what it looked like or how to get there. There was no Wicked Witch of the East or West, but there were many tornados and dead ends; there were many obstacles in their life, testing the strength of their trust. Alfred's condition was just another obstacle. England believed that he both he and US would have to learn to trust each other. There was still one more bridge to overcome. What a messy journey to go through. There was no end to their journey, as long as both of them would continue to live. Both of them were out of place with humans. Both of them would live until they no longer had a purpose on Earth. England was sure that he too, was probably looking as messy and out of place as US was. Arthur didn't care.

Alfred turned his head to have his face facing Arthur's. The American reached out for the Englishman; he roughly pushed his palm down on Arthur's, lifting the English nation's chin up to meet face to face. The two kissed.

Static ran through Alfred's body, taking over his thoughts, erasing everything he worried about before. His mind focused on only one subject: being with Arthur. Alfred felt Arthur's rough lips press against Alfred's, brushing against the American's lips, sinking into a Cupid's dream. If the gods were real, then Alfred would have admitted that he had been shot more than twice. The American felt strangely giddy. He almost wanted to laugh for no apparent reason. Just as long as Arthur was here... The aching feeling he once had in his heart no longer existed. Arthur was here. With him. Alfred lips melted, merging with Arthur's. The Englishman's lips tasted like Earl Grey; the tea tasted raw and bitter, like wormwood. Arthur never liked to add too much sugar into his coffee. Arthur liked the bitter taste. Alfred would have normally rejected the Englishman's favorite beverage, but when their lips touched, the American invited the taste with eagerness. He wouldn't mind drinking the grey stuff everyday if England offered it to him by mouth. There was a perfect balance in taste between the Earl Grey and England's sweet honey lips. A honey bee would have envied Alfred to have a taste of England's lips. US sank deeper into the English nation's mouth; he nearly gagged when the brim of his mouth was filled with saliva, he had gone too far. Their tongues were tangled in a salivary mess; Arthur bit his tongue to prevent himself from complaining.

"Alfred," England gasped when he finally pushed away from the flavorful sloppy kiss. US affectionately patted a kiss on his partner's cheeks, leaving the Englishman's pale face covered in acidic saliva. He didn't care.

"Tired of being in control, yet?" Alfred warily asked.

"Don't shit with me." Arthur cursed. "I know what I'm doing." He poked his hand down Alfred's pants, grasping on the American's groin. He purred in Alfred's ears. "We're not done yet." He quickly released Alfred's crotch and sat back. England and US were sitting at the opposite ends of the giant bed; Alfred was at the head of the bed.

Alfred twitched. "What are you doing?" He dug his nails into England's bare back; his head was resting on Arthur's right shoulders. The American winced and moaned in desperation. "Go al'ready!"

Alfred found it slightly difficult to say some of what he was meaning to say. Now his tongue was all tied up in knots. His already horrid vision was starting to blur even more; he had trouble focusing onto anything. His thighs grew tight; his groin hardened when England squeezed it again, the Englishman stroked it with lightly, barely touching it.

"Fuck!" Alfred's cursing was drowned by his own groans. He choked on his own saliva when he tried to stop himself from making any noises. He felt so stiff and hot. The room was getting hotter and more intolerable. He was nearly suffocating from the thick air. It was ridiculous.

England hummed. "That's the plan." He looked like he was enjoying himself. He bobbed his head up and gave a quick nib at US's ear; he playfully licked Alfred's neck. "Is that what you want? What should this lion do?" Arthur's chaotic hair was enough to have him labeled as a lion. He had the same fierceness and aggressiveness of one. The lion was a symbol of Great Britain… Alfred found himself staring at Arthur, who was grinning ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat. Alfred himself was now the one scowling instead of Arthur. Their roles have switched.

"Shut up and kiss me, l'ready." The American moaned.

Arthur smiled. "Kiss you?" He whispered. Arthur was quite dangerous when he was in a good mood like this. Alfred liked it.

The English man poured his mouth into the American nation; his tongue flicked in and out, narrowly missing Alfred's. The two's lips became one, forming a heart and bond between the two nations. England's warm lips merged over America's, throwing the American into a sweet and melting dream, hoping that the dreamscape would never end. Alfred found himself lost inside the Englishman's presence; his strong arms swung around the Brit. The American longed for more. He wanted to reach for more. Alfred's tongue slide its way through England's lips, wresting its partner, begging for more. England eagerly offered Alfred the new feeling of unity and continued to kiss the younger man with passion, taking himself further in the entrance of Alfred's mouth. Their mouths wrestled and fought for dominance and control; it was an even fight. One that would never have a winner. Alfred eventually gave in and allowed Arthur to win today's fight. There would be more fights to fight for.

"Is this what you wanted?" Arthur softly asked again. The English nation did have a strange ability to sound intimidating, even when he voice stayed low. His voice was rough and edgy, yet had a soothing and comfort tone to it. It wasn't the smoothest voice in the world, but it was the voice Alfred had grown up listening to. It brought comfort to the American. Arthur gently sucked on Alfred's lower stomach; he listened to his partner's heartbeats, galloping at high speeds. The English man sighed; Alfred's skin showed slight red popping up at where England had been sucking and licking the American man's spot. US's soft groan replied to the Englishman's question; his heart was full of lust and want.

"Ke'p go'in." Alfred said dizzily. This was only the beginning. What did he want England to do? "Fuck me, Arthur. Fuck." His eyes lost their focus. They wobbled. "D'mn 't, Arthur, just do it already!" He was already halfway through tugging his pants down. England didn't wait for US to finish. The English nation shred both of their boxer's off; he ignored US's cries of his favorite boxers being destroyed.

"Where is the lube?" Alfred managed to ask without tripping on his words. He tried not to tear from the increasing tension between them. The two of them were barely inches apart from one another. He was already sweating like nuts.

England took out a small tin from one of Alfred's bomber jacket pockets; the jacket was kept close to the side of the bed. Arthur opened the small container and poured the jelly onto his palm. Arthur signaled Alfred to turn over. England took the lubricant and gently rubbed the jelly onto Alfred's torso, evenly smoothing out the jelly on Alfred's skin. Alfred's skin nearly jumped out when the cold chilling lube hit his skin, sending short signals to his spine that made him shiver. So cold.

"I thought you were supposed to heat up the lube." Alfred shivered.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized and continued to apply the cream onto Alfred. "I got so excited," His voice was increasing in volume from exhilaration; his fingers were forming circles on the American's skin, in attempts to warm up the cold lubricant. "I forgot." It has been awhile since they have done this.

"I'm sorry for not telling you stuff." Alfred had returned to his normal talking. He was resting on his stomach; his chin was resting on his pillow. His mind was still full of want and desire, but there were still thoughts of last week's happening lingering inside his head.

"Stop apologizing," Arthur said. "I thought we have decided on that."

"I know." Alfred quietly said. "I know I can't do much about this, but I really hope that things get better from here and out."

England kissed US. "I hope so too." He wiped his hands off. "Are you ready?" He asked Alfred. Arthur gazed at the man beside him. Alfred meant so much to him. He didn't want to see Alfred suffer like this. The Alfreds had merged, but England really hoped that Alfred would understand how much it had worried the others. England wanted to tell US that he loved him and that everything was all right.

Alfred warily smiled at Arthur. "I'm ready." He trusted England on not being rough. Arthur has been with him long enough to know his limits. Alfred wasn't afraid of proceeding further. US watched England cover one of his fingers with the jelly, making sure that it was evenly coated and ready to start.

Arthur nodded. "Here I go." He took his index finger and probed his way through Alfred; Arthur saw Alfred slightly squirm.

Alfred sighed.

"Are you alright there?" England asked Alfred. Arthur had slight concern written on his small face. Alfred's thighs grew tight, taking in Arthur's finger, uncomfortably getting used to the new tension. Arthur slowly thrust his way around, careful not to harm Alfred. He felt his way in, feeling the soft walls inside of the American. The Englishman was familiar with Alfred's body, but he was always concern when they did this. Arthur wasn't usually in this position.

"No." US honestly said. His sounded lax. "I'm fine." Alfred didn't wince at the new feeling; his face was calm and relaxed.

"You sure?" Arthur asked; he gave a quite glance at his partner. Alfred was wearing a soft expression; his gold locks shone from the night's light. England found himself staring at Alfred before he remembered what he was doing when Alfred interrupted his runoff thoughts.

Alfred nodded. "Keep going." Arthur silently agreed and continued with another finger; this time, it was England's middle finger. He gave a quick coating of the lubricant all over his middle finger, before squeezing it into Alfred's torso, just as gently as he did with the first finger. The longer finger did the same as the index finger did; it went through Alfred, going through him, moving around and unhurriedly touched the inside of the American.

Arthur took his time before he said to Alfred, "You know, I really thought that you out of all people would have a personality disorder." He still had two fingers left.

Alfred couldn't look at Arthur because of his position; he gazed up at the ceiling, intended to send his look at concern to Arthur. "You know, he really is me. I really did want to kiss you back then. I really did."

England inserted another finger and asked, "You really felt that insecure? Are you that jealous?"

US blinked. "Of myself? Nah. But I was upset that you didn't see me as what we are now. Back then…"

England sighed. "Alfred," He tried not to sound wary. His teasing mood had faded away. "I know we talked about this before…but…" He searched for his words. "I don't think I really saw you as anything but a brother until recently." Recently, as in the first world war.

"Yeah," Alfred replied. "France. Right." The Franco-Anglo Relationship that was said to be stronger than the American-British Relationship at the time of WWI.

"But you know that we nations can't stay on one relationship," Arthur sounded like he was almost begging for Alfred's forgiveness. "You know it's our nature to change love and interests from time to time."

"Yeah," Alfred whispered. "I know." He too, has gone through multiple relationships besides England before they got together. Alfred talked again. "I sometimes wonder why our relation has to be caused by our bosses." He was frustrated. "Does this mean that I could one day hate you? Because my boss doesn't agree with yours?"

England knew how US felt and quietly said. "I can't read the future, but I guess that's how it could end."

"It's not fair." Alfred whispered.

Arthur lightly kissed Alfred's back. "I know." He took his free hand and gently stroked Alfred's back. "Life isn't fair."

"I'll still love you." US said. "Even if that happens." He buried his face into the mattress. "No matter what happens between the two of us, I'll still love you. Because I'll love Arthur the human, not England the nation."

Arthur sadly smiled. Alfred wouldn't have believed him if Arthur had told Alfred of how many relations between families and lovers have been ruined and destroyed because of war and politics. For both humans and nations. It was a sad world, but for a moment, Arthur wanted to believe in Alfred's words. He wanted to believe that no matter what happened to them, they would still remain together. At least in their hearts. An unnerving silence broke out. England tried not to think of the devastating future that may be held ahead of them in deathly eagerness.

"Put in one more." Alfred quietly reminded Arthur. "I'm ready for the last one."

"Alfred," Arthur whispered his name.

"Just one more." Alfred softly spoke.

Arthur slowly brought the last finger in; all four fingers were now in. The Englishman stretched his way around, in and out, tunneling through, feeling his way for that spot, touching the soft familiar inside of Alfred, making his way in. He felt a soft light bumpy surface. He gently squeezed it, feeling his thin fingers run through the soft animus lump, lightly touching it and shaping it with his index finger. Moans erupted out of Alfred's throat. They were moans of pleasure. US's cock hardened, tweaking up, erecting and turning blood red. More groans came out in variety. The English nation had to stop Alfred from flopping around like a fish; his fingers were still inside of the American. Arthur struggled keeping Alfred until his embracement, careful to not allow the bigger nation to gain control and hurt himself from the sensation.

"'rth'r…" Alfred was starting to talk funny again. His vision nearly surrendered; his eyes saw red. He moaned again. England knew that spot so well. Alfred's thighs, already compacted, grew even tighter, almost enclosing Arthur's fingers into his rear. The pressure between the two made Arthur sweaty; he knew that Alfred was feeling the same heat as he was.

"It's okay, Alfred." England continued to keep US down. Alfred was strong when he wasn't careful of his strength. Their groins nearly grinded against each other in their small wrestle for strength. "Don't move around too much."

Arthur clutched the soft spot again, sending Alfred into a mad frenzy of cries and moans. Alfred had a colorful language and threw them all at Arthur. "It has been awhile since we have done this, haven't we?" England briefly rested his head on US's back; he caressed Alfred's torso with affection. He was very eager to do this, but he was also happy to see Alfred again.

"Y'u'll s'r' eag'r 'bout t'is…" Alfred found himself grumble, but also found himself as happy as Arthur was. His face was beat red; he would lose his blood if he kept at this rate.

"America seems to be a rather sensible person." Arthur said in thought as he prepared himself.

Arthur released his fingers from the sensitive spot and slowly slid his hand out; there were short pants from Alfred. The Englishman took the small tin beside him and scooped up a giant heap of the jelly inside. He took the cold substance and covered his crotch in jelly. He ignored the coldness when the jelly came into contact with his hot skin; his crotch was tightened from the cries of Alfred. England wasn't normally sadistic, but…Alfred's moans were, …well…sexy. It attracted the Englishman. The short hairs on the Englishman's back nearly stood up from their roots when Arthur listened to Alfred's gruff voice.

"Th't's bec'use he 's meh." Alfred found himself explaining himself to Arthur. "You w'rry me 'lot."

"About what?" Arthur asked.

"You're 'lways en a bad mood and you 'lways seem tired." The American replied.

"I like the sensitive you." England laid his cheek on Alfred's and nuzzled him. "I guess that's why I liked you so much."

"Heroes can be sens'tiv'." Alfred claimed.

Alfred cried out when Arthur thrust forward; his insides tied up into thick knots; his thighs grew tight as the Englishman squeezed his way through with his cock, making its way into Alfred. The lubricant had made the entrance very slippery, allowing Arthur to slip his way in. He was cautious to make his movements slow, careful not to go in too deep. They would do this slowly. One at a time. He wasn't too sure how comfortable Alfred would be of how far they would go. Arthur gently dug in, sliding his thighs against Alfred's, rubbing his hot skin against the other. Alfred spread his legs further to make it easier for both himself and for Arthur.

The once warm tension between them has accelerated to fire; the burning friction between their skins brushed against one another, sending Alfred into an uncontrollable screech. It was so hot, but there was so much pleasure in the sensation. Both were blinded with lust and desire. The walls enclosing inside of Alfred closed in more; his thighs burned in protest to the Arthur's entrance, but Alfred ignored the pain. He continued to invite the newcomer, taking in more than he should have.

"Do you want to go further?" Arthur asked. He leaned his head down to whisper into Alfred's ear. He whispered of sweet things to the American; he spoke of light fantasies and sweet melodies, singing Alfred into seduction. He listened to the American man's soft pants and struggle to make as little noise as possible. Alfred felt his blood circulating up to his cheeks again; their hot slimy bodies slammed against each other, sweat produced out of the two's close contact. Friction did its job and created a tight atmosphere of love and lust. Arthur struggled to keep himself from falling off, riding on Alfred's torso, holding onto it with all of his might.

Arthur knew Alfred's body, inside out. He went in deeper; the two of them plunged deep into a dark ocean, losing themselves into blind destination. Alfred continued to dance with him, allowing himself to dance and synchronize with Arthur, allowing the flow of heat surround them, taking them in and creating tension that never seemed to have faded. Their bodies stayed in close contact, refusing to separate from the other.

Looking at Alfred's legs spreading out, Arthur bended down to take in Alfred's groin, sucking the cock, feeling the already hardened crotch turn even tenser in his mouth. The swollen cock throbbed; Arthur took in more. White stuff foamed at the tip of the English nation's tongue, leaving a ravenous feeling in the pits of his stomach. Arthur listened to Alfred's moans; Arthur loosened his strength, making sure not to be too rough on the American nation. He continued to suck on the cock, leaving his saliva all over Alfred. Alfred nearly forgotten how to breathe and nearly choked on himself.

Arthur stopped to check if Alfred was alright. "'kay, Al'fed?" His mouth was brimmed with lust and full of Alfred's crotch. His teeth tugged on the cock.

"F'ck y'u, 'rtha!" Alfred could barely talk properly. Arthur could hardly understand a word the younger man was saying.

Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's short hair, taking hold of it, trying not to make so much noise. The American could not think properly; his mind tugged at him and screamed. It felt so different when their roles switched, but Alfred didn't complain. He liked the feeling, it just was that he felt so aroused, it was almost uncontrollable. Alfred kept giving more to Arthur, pushing further into the Englishman's mouth. Arthur nearly choked on taking in too much, but continued to suck, tweak the tip of Alfred's crotch with the touch of his tongue, teasing and tugging on it. Alfred's cock twitched and inverted back, hardening and swelling in Arthur's mouth. Arthur gasped out for oxygen and swallowed the last part of the nasty substance. Disgusted, but satisfied. White foamy semen foamed at his mouth, bubbling at the roof of his tongue. The slimy acidic substance tickled down the English nation's throat, still hot and wet against Arthur's sweaty thin throat. The Englishman blocked the entrance of his mouth with his lips to prevent himself from throwing the white substance back out in rejection. His lips were sealed. Alfred passionately kissed Arthur's neck, patting a small peck on his Adam's apple, watching it bob up and down along with the rhythm of their heartbeats. Now Arthur was the one who was giving into moaning Alfred's name. Arthur wasn't the only one would could take part of this game.

"Alfred," He gasped out. The English nation stopped sucking and went back into fucking the crap out of Alfred, throwing himself into Alfred, filling the American nation with the Englishman. Both of them looked as though they were to explode from the heated friction between them. They no longer needed any Vaseline to do it; their sweat was enough to make Arthur slide through and get inside Alfred again, filling him to the top. Alfred wanted this to be like that forever. He wanted Arthur to get inside of him again and fuck him senseless. Although by now, their relation was more into terms of making love than actually just being termed as fucking or having sex. At the moment, Alfred didn't care what people would have labeled their relationship as and just wanted to be with the Englishman until the day they would seize to exist. He almost forgot about the other nations and that they still had the world to worry about. Screw the world. Alfred just wanted to forget them all. Their sweaty bodies were entangled with the thin bed sheets, twisted into knots, tangled between their legs. Alfred could feel the soft feathery texture of the mattress underneath him, supporting his and Arthur's weight. The springs have not yet surrendered to the abuse from the two nations' rough play.

Tired, Arthur finally stopped and threw himself to the side of the bed, laying by Alfred's side. He calmly kissed Alfred, tasting his ripe lips, claiming them as his own. Mmm. Georgian peaches (2). So sweet and tender. "I forgive you now." His lips lapped over Alfred's again. "I love you."

Alfred seemed to have been aroused and mumbled. "Ey won't beh rough tonite, meh ass." He tilted Arthur's head to lick his lips and fill him mouth with England. "I'll beh te one 'opping 'morrow nite." He gave Arthur a wet sloppy kiss. "Ew, you taste like semen." Alfred complained. The English nation didn't object to being covered with American drool and saliva.

Arthur pretended to innocently ask. "There will be a tomorrow night?" He grinned ear to ear. "What will it be?" He gently planted another kiss on the American's head. His bright pixie green eyes carried hints of mischief and delight to the American's complaint.

"Bondage." Alfred's words were so clear.

Arthur just laughed. His laugh was so pleasant… "I'll be glad to see that." He smiled at the tired US. Arthur yawned. He was getting tired too.

"Arthur?" Alfred looked up at his partner. He looked at Arthur with concern. "Tired?"

The English nation yawned again. "I think we're done for tonight." He stretched out his arms. "I'm exhausted."

"That's an understatement." The American grumbled and nuzzled his head against Arthur's chest.

Arthur smiled. "Missed me?"

"More than you think." Alfred sighed.

"I missed you too." England whispered.

"We finally agreed on something." Alfred stated and kissed Arthur's chest, the place where his heart was. He listened intently to the hummingbird rhythm of the Englishman's heart.

"What? That I can top you better than you could top me?" The former empire joked. He awkwardly patted Alfred on the back with a soft chuckle.

Alfred sighed. "'ust go to slep 'lready." He tossed around the bed and took the bed sheet's covers to cover themselves up. England was always in such a good mood when things went his way. His senses were so clashed up from the chaotic night between them. He could still feel the tense heat between them; he was sweating from head to toe. He both mentally and physically exhausted. England had always made him experience all five of his sense on nights like this, even the sixth sense. Alfred felt so tired from his hectic night, but he was grateful for enjoying spending time with Arthur like this again.

"Alright, love," England pleasantly said. "I'll always love you." He whispered in Alfred's ears. He blew a gentle kiss in his ears, sending a soft breeze into his earlobes.

The house was oddly silent. The only thing Alfred could hear was the sound of their soft breathes, taking in the oxygen, inhaling and exhaling out. Both of them were relieved to breathe normally again. The sound of the wind struck against the window, thumping lightly on the thick glass. Lucky for US, Albert was still gone. Where was he? Oh well, it was a good thing that his adopted son was gone. If he was under the same roof, he would definitely hear the moans and the begging from them. Alfred would have to face his son with guilty looks in the morning and try to make up by taking him to another baseball game. Albert would still send him dark looks throughout the whole game. The American nation was surprised that none of the neighbors have came over to complain, although this wasn't the first time they have done this at Alfred's place.

"I'm glad I'm back." Alfred whispered. The touch of the Englishman had told him that he really was back. His hands gripped on Arthur's; his palms relaxed at the touch of Arthur's presence. Arthur's hands were soft, but firm. They were the hands of someone who went through much hardship. It was the same type of hands he had. Alfred gently kissed Arthur's palms, rubbing his cheeks against it; he brushed his tough skin against his partner.

"The nightmare is over," Arthur agreed, stroking Alfred's spinal cord. "There's nothing to worry about anymore." His thick eyebrows laid flat and straight; they didn't show any signs of anger or of his unnerving scowls he would normally throw at Alfred. His face was as red as Alfred's. A mix of sweat and fluid dripped off his skin; his eyes were wild and aroused. His hair was as wild as ever; Alfred reached over to smooth Arthur's hair. The American brought his arms around England's waist, and brought his body against his, holding Arthur's hands. Alfred looked at the man and took all of Arthur's appearance, and treasured it. Males were visually orientated. He wanted to have his face imprinted in his mind forever. Arthur just closed his eyes and thought of the man who lay beside him.

Nothing more was said. A pleasant silence fell into the room; not a single sound was made. Both were smiling when they have fallen asleep. Both of them had their hands linked together, still entwined with the other. Both were still holding onto each other, never letting go, even when unconscious.

Outside, the autumn leaves continued to scatter.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – The Roman Empire. Ancient Egypt and Ancient Greece. Alexander the Great having an affair with Queen Cleopatra. Rome invading Greece. No need to say more.

(2) - Georgia is known as the 'Peach State'. Ah, I can still sneak in history references. Even in a sex chapter. Somebody shoot me now.

* * *

**Notes:** This came out longer than I intended. Who knew that smut could take up so much room? This chapter was expected to only reach half of its length. Guess this is like a treat for some of you guys. Enjoy it. I somehow have a feeling that I'm not just the only one who is feeling guilty pleasure of typing this. Fail sex scene is fail.

* * *

**-stutters- Read. Review. Don't hate me for this chapter. This is my one of my first sex scenes ever written. Please spare me. If you feel uncomfortable with this chapter, just pretend that it never existed. If you don't like reading smut, you didn't have to read this. I warned you. Oh, and remember to keep reading. This is the second to last chapter. We have one chapter left. We're almost done. -runs away-**


	20. Chapter 20: Departure

**Lucid Memories **

**Chapter 20: Departure**

**

* * *

**

_*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers. _

_

* * *

_

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

The engine roared into Arthur's ears. It was a Saturday morning. It was the first day of October. He and Alfred had woken up at five in the morning for that day. To make sure that Arthur has packed everything for his trip back to London. Arthur grumpily threw a fuss when Alfred woke him up with a kiss. At first, Arthur resisted, but the Englishman eventually gave in and took the good morning greeting, anyway, warily draping his arms over the American's shoulders with a lazy grin. England had already packed up the night before; he didn't have much to pack. The Englishman never brought much with him on these business trips. He wasn't a tourist. He has gone to Alfred's place too many times to really expect himself to be amazed by the Statue of Liberty or the Golden Gate Bridge after seeing them for more than a hundred times. Although he did think that certain parts of America were beautiful… Anyway, they have woken up when the sun still hasn't risen up yet. They ate a quick breakfast and rush to the airport to make sure that Arthur wouldn't miss his ride.

"Are you okay there, England?" Alfred cheerfully asked. Arthur nearly died in the car to Alfred's terrifying driving. He was nearly crying by the time they have found a tight parking space near the airport's entrance. The Yeager Airport wasn't that far away; it was in Charleston, West Virginia's capitol city. The morning traffic wasn't that bad, so it didn't take them that long to get to their destination in less than an hour.

"I'm fine….just fine…" Arthur felt like hell when he stepped out of the car. He was so glad to get off of that death machine…

There was no struggle dropping Arthur's luggage and finding the terminal. His plane was to be located in terminal seventy six. It would take them awhile to find the terminal. His flight was scheduled to take off around eleven, Charleston time. Alfred was very lucky to have managed to find a business plane ticket for the Englishman, especially at the last minute. The American's problem had delayed England's ride; Arthur had no idea when he would be able to return to Europe. Arthur's plane ride had two stops before arriving to London; this meant that he would have to sleep through the long plane rides, because according to his flight ticket, it was a thirteen and a half hour trip. If the plane stayed on schedule, it should arrive to London at around twelve o'clock AM, but that was in Charleston time. Arthur would really arrive to England at five o'clock in the morning, London time. The English nation didn't want to think about being dragged from plane to plane before getting home. Arthur had flown a plane before, but being a passenger on one seemed to be an entirely different scenario. There was nothing to distract him from realizing that he was hundreds of miles above the ground. He didn't like the food or the comfort of the plane either; it made him sick.

"Looks like we still have lots of time!" Alfred cheerfully stated when they found terminal seventy six. What a long walk. It took up more time than Arthur thought it would have.

Arthur checked his left wrist. It was quarter to ten. The plane wouldn't start boarding until ten thirty. The English nation was still tired from waking up so early in the morning. He wasn't much of a morning person. He denied Alfred's coffee when the American man offered it to him. Arthur didn't want to wake up to tasting that crap. The American took the liberty to carry England's carry-on bag and had it slung over his shoulder. England didn't put much in his carry-on bag either; he had his laptop and documents kept and neatly stored away.

The terminal itself was rather small and it wasn't built to hold or sustain a lot of people. Adults and children alike were sitting around aimlessly, waiting for their flight. Some were reading books or magazines, hoping to past the time, quietly flipping each page when they finished. Parents hoping to save money brought their own food with them and told their children to eat them before boarding on the plane, sending several kids crying in refusal. Others didn't bother and bought food or snacks from the overpriced shops near the terminal and ate them with empty enthusiasm. Older passengers had their eyes focused on the TV screen that was displayed above their head; CNN was on. Teenagers were seen listening to their iPods, cranking up the music to maximum volume, ignoring their parents' warnings. Shouts in some foreign language could be heard in the cluster of many voices. A young girl of fifteen was seen texting and chatting into her cell phone like there was no tomorrow; her thin fingers texted away, scattering across the keyboard in impatient rhythm. Small children begged their parents to let them have one more ice cream cone, promising that they wouldn't ask for more after that one. The older children were running across the room, chasing each other and making lots of noises, pinching and taunting their younger siblings. Babies cried to the top of their lungs, burying their small faces into their mothers' bosoms, hungry and thirsty. Already worn out parents stared at the ceiling, asking themselves when would hell come to its end. A uniformed lady at the front desk held a calm face, but Arthur suspected that years of experience had taught her how to be patient and tolerant of such chaos early in the morning. There must have been roughly thirty or forty people in the room.

"Do you want to walk around?" Alfred quietly asked Arthur. "I'm not too sure if you want to sit here all by yourself." He pointed to the crowd of people in the room. "I don't see any available seats." All of the seats were taken. How was it that all of these people had always arrived to the terminal before he did?

The Englishman nodded. "Yeah," He stared at the chaotic group. "We can walk around."

The American beamed. "Great!" He slapped his arm around England. "Are you hungry?"

"Twat!" England cried. Alfred nearly made the Englishman fall because of his weight. "Get off me!" He tried to push Alfred's weight away from his body. "You weigh too much!"

"Aw," Alfred pouted. "You're so mean." His face turned sad with the characteristics of a small child. "That's not what you said last night…"

Alfred watched Arthur's face turn beef red and shouted. "W-who said that?" England eyes nearly popped out. "I-I never said that, A-alfred!" He nervously laughed. "W-what ever, were you talking about?" Thoughts of last night briefly lapped over his mind. The Englishman stubbornly pushed the memories away in attempts to calm himself down. He refused to make a big scene out of this.

"You don't need to shout," US looked amused at England's denial. "Look. You're attracting attention." People were staring at the two of them. Nearly half of the people in the room had turned their head around to see what the commotion was. The others could have cared less and went on with their lives. Nothing much to see. Arthur was red as Antonio's tomatoes and stuttering out shouts of denial. Alfred was standing beside him with the Englishman's bag. Alfred was wearing a poker face. People could have mistaken them as brothers in disagreement. If Alfred wasn't holding Arthur's hand.

"S-stop holding my hand!" Arthur stuttered and took his hand away. Alfred's hands were always so warm. They remained to radiate heat, even in a cool October morning. Arthur wanted to place his cold cheeks against Alfred's palm.

Alfred chuckled and brushed his lover's pale cheeks. He gave a small peck at Arthur's cheeks. So soft. "You're so cute when you blush, Arthur."

"People could see us!" The English nation cried.

"Only if you make so much noise," The American charmingly smiled. He took England's hand again. "Do you want to go get those scones from Starbucks?" Alfred heard the Englishman mumble that Starbucks was 'overrated' and that their scones 'weren't good', but Arthur agreed to his plans and followed the American, holding hands.

* * *

"Is Albert okay?" England asked after they exited Starbucks. Alfred bought himself a small cup of coffee and a two blueberry scones to share with Arthur. US claimed that they tasted 'way better than your crap', but the younger nation was wearing a twinkling smile when he said it, so England thought that he was joking. It was hard to determine whether the American was joking or not.

"Albert told me that he would call me later today. I think he's alright." US replied. He took a small sip from his cup.

The New Yorker had already caught his train ride a day ago. New York told Arthur to take care of his father and to not allow him to do anymore idiotic things when the New Yorker wasn't there to check on his father. The former empire could only sigh and agree to the state's favor.

"Is he still mad at you?" Arthur asked. He was holding onto the bag of scones with the tip of his fingers.

Alfred blinked. "Yeah…" He looked away. "He's still mad at me…"

England noticed US's hesitation and understood. "I see."

After New York caught him and England in action, US faced the whole day in the wrath of his child, listening to his constant complaints and shouts. When Arthur wasn't within earshot, Alfred quietly talked to the state and tried to explain to him the reasons of his actions, without so much success. Albert was quite stubborn at times. This wasn't the first time Alfred had hid something from his kids. They didn't like it. Alfred didn't like it, but he felt that it was sometimes necessary. He and Albert had made a schedule to meet again sometime this week to talk again. It would take awhile for New York to eventually learn to trust his father again.

"Are you alright?" Arthur gently asked. "No voices in your head?" He tried to sound light hearted when he said that. Alfred heard England's voice crack.

"No," Alfred was serious when he answered his question. "No voices in my head." He rubbed the side of his head when he thought of what he had gone through for the past couple of weeks.

"That's good." Arthur said.

"Yeah." Alfred quietly agreed.

Alfred visited his doctor again a few days ago. After exchanging casual greetings to the doc, they went straight to business. US had known the man since the sixties. Going through numerous tests of both physical and mental, Alfred answered all of their questions. He went through of their procedures and he had cooperated with them like he always did. When the results were mailed back, it was official: Alfred was no longer diagnosed with D.I.D. It was a miracle, they thought. It was 'fascinating', they worded it. D.I.D. was curable, they said, but it always took time and lots of effort. _It does take lots of time and effort to break free_, Alfred thought.

How did he do it? Alfred told them that he and his other self have merged. Ah, they said, that's becoming a more common way of treatment nowadays. Oh, others replied, no more medicine and therapy. Alfred honestly could have cared less. D.I.D. has never made anything clear or absolute to him. At least when it came to stress, which applied to him more than it would have to the average man. Nothing was certain. He wasn't too sure of why he had two personalities. The experts said it was because of the trauma from war. He did not know why the other personality kept thinking that he was from the past. He and England reasoned that it was because that part of Alfred was stuck in the past. He wasn't even too sure how long he had this condition. How many years has it been? Ninety? One hundred? Things may have been unclear to him, but he was certain that it lasted longer than a century. Maybe even two centuries. It was the only thing he was sure of when it came to his condition of once having multiple personalities.

But it didn't matter anymore. Because Alfred was free. He no longer held cloudy thoughts. Like England, he too had will eventually recovered from the past. He was cured, but that didn't mean that he has entirely forgotten about the past. The past would always be in his memories. He would heal. Not overnight, but as time passes by, and Arthur would be there for him.

"We have an hour left." Alfred declared. The sudden sound of his voice surprised Arthur. He was so quiet for the past several minutes. They were silently walking around the airport, making sure that they stayed close to Arthur's terminal.

"I guess I'll be leaving soon." The Englishman said sadly. They were still holding hands.

"Sorry for being an idiot." US apologized for the umpteenth time. "Sorry for making you worry so much."

"I know." Arthur took a small bit out of his scone. It tasted too sweet. He looked down at his clothes. He was wearing the same suit he was wearing during the UN meeting. One of buttons looked loose; he would have to sew it back when he got back home.

Alfred hugged the smaller man. "Sorry for being so distant with you lately."

"Alfred?" The English nation gawked at his partner. The American somehow managed to hold onto England's bag and a cup of coffee in one hand, and hug Arthur with his free hand. It was a short hug since it was only with one arm, but it was sweet of him. Arthur blushed underneath the American's arm and wore a small smile.

"Thank you for staying with me." The American nation smiled back. He threw his coffee cup into the trash bin and dropped England bag. He gave England a full bear hug and thanked him. "Thank you, Arthur. Thank you. For accepting me. For being with me. For everything."

For a moment, Arthur thought he heard the two of them. The two Alfreds. Wait. "That's…" England stared at Alfred wide eyed. It was the same thing Alfred had said the other day…

Alfred frowned when he glared at Arthur's watch. "You need to go now." His thin eyebrows crossed in thought. Ten fifteen.

"I suppose we'll have to walk back to terminal seventy six." England said.

US sighed. "Seventy six." He repeated. The American frowned again. 1776. No, he mentally shook his head. Don't think about it. It's over. The nightmare was over. He thought of the man who was in his arms, Arthur, who had his trust and has stayed by his side. Alfred was done with the past. He needed to think about the present.

"Relax." England rested his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He read the younger man's tense mood. "Don't stress over it. It's just a number." Now Arthur was the one comforting the younger nation. His took Alfred's free hand and rested his cheek against it. "Relax." Arthur whispered.

"Right." Alfred gulped.

Arthur still saw his shoulders rising up. The English gentleman sighed and leaned towards the American. The man's sudden move was unexpected and caught Alfred by surprise. Alfred's bright cerulean eyes widened when he found himself being kissed by the English nation.

"Just calm down," Arthur's mouth movements told Alfred. Alfred felt his tense nerves relax and gave in. Arthur's honey lips brushed over Alfred's again, repeatedly painting them over with wet and saliva, passionately brushing them over with gentility. The tip of their tongues met and very briefly twisted around each other, an odd mimicry of an embracement. Alfred's strong arms embraced Arthur; the two of them forgot that they were kissing in the middle of an airport. If the janitor came in and caught them, they probably wouldn't have noticed or have cared.

Alfred eventually came back into his senses and broke away from the kiss. "It's getting late." He panted. Ten thirty one. They have been kissing for quite awhile.

Arthur panted back. "Shit!" He cursed. "I'm late!"

"You'll call me on my cell when you get back, right?" Alfred asked the older nation. He was still holding onto England. They were currently standing in an empty terminal where it was isolated from the rest of the airport. Nobody saw them together.

"I'll call you." Arthur promised. "I need to go. Now." First class was already boarding in right now. Arthur was in the business class. He would come right after them. He could still make it.

They ran to terminal seventy six. First class has just finished boarding in. With a quick last minute kiss, Arthur went into the line that led to the plane. He flashed his passport to the security and was let in. Before he left, he heard Alfred shout out, "Call me when you get home!" It sounded like Alfred was going to cry. Just like the old days. When Arthur left the child all by himself as a colony.

Arthur's mouth opened, but no words fell out. He just stood there with his mouth hanging opening like an angler fish. He just stared at his lover; his eyes couldn't leave Alfred's sun kissed face. Oh, how much he wished that US could come onto the plane with him. But Alfred had no business with the UK. His boss would question him for going to London without an explanation. England could hear the clutter of voices in the background. Arthur turned his back away to get to his plane, disappear into from view. In a few minutes, the plane would take off…

Arthur dragged his carry-on bag and walked briskly through the long tunnel. He made a quick right turn and kept walking forward. He could still hear Alfred's cries of good byes. Arthur nearly cried. He didn't like to say good byes. He never did. Even after years, centuries, of saying good byes, he could never get used to the small tugging feeling of leaving. It was part of being a nation. You never stay in one place for long. Nations are like a nomads. They never stay in one place in fear of being discovered by humans. Stronger nations like him have found colonies and had to leave them all the time in order to attend to other affairs. For Arthur, leaving Alfred was always a bother to him. If he was human, he could have just moved to America and live with Alfred, or vice versa. Not for the first time in his very long life, Arthur envied humans. Humans had control of their lives. They were not strained under chains of politics like nations were…

The Englishman boarded the plane and was greeted by the pilot. England exchanged greetings with him. He saw flight attendants standing at the back of the plane, casually chatting with each other. Many of the passengers were flopped on their seats. Parents already fell asleep on their seats. Children were bouncing around their seats, staring and pointing at random objects outside the plane window. Those that were new to flying were trying to figure out how to use their seatbelts and wore irritated looks on their faces. Others sat quietly in their seats and just stared at what was in front of them.

England's seat was right behind the first class; it was next to the window, so he had the window's view. He stared outside the thick round hole. All he could see was the big white building that was connected to the plane by the rectangular tunnel. He thought he saw flickers of blond hair. Alfred? He placed his hand over the window and kept his eyes on the figure.

"We will be preparing for takeoff." The pilot's voice bounced off the small walls of the plane.

_Alfred_, England sighed. The American has just recovered from the recent incident. It worried US. He never knew that Alfred had held so much doubt inside himself. Alfred always made himself appear bigger than he really was. He made himself be this hero that seemed to have absolutely no doubt or hints of being shot down for his ideas. Arthur knew that Alfred was struggling to recover. The American was struggling to make up for those years of running away by being more honest with Arthur. Arthur found himself not being with Alfred himself at times. Both of them would to work hard to learn how to be more honest with each other. Being honest was hard. Especially when there was doubt behind to motivation of hiding secrets. Alfred was not going to recover overnight. England knew that. It took England awhile to recover from traumas of the Revolution. But the English nation thought. He knew that. He knew that Alfred would one day recover. One day, Alfred would see that both US and England meant well. Both meant to make themselves as happy as possible, but one of them had to cut the link to live and survive.

"I forgive you, Alfred." Arthur whispered. His breathed on the window, watching the plastic material turn white from his hot breathe. He thought he saw the figure nod his head.

The plane took off.

* * *

When England left, US thought he saw a face mouth something to him. Arthur? He stared at through the glass window towards the plane's direction. The face had blond hair, but was it really him?

Alfred closed his eyes. His blue eyes were hidden behind his eyelids. "He forgave me." He said simply. He forgave him. For a moment, Alfred almost thought that he heard England's voice.

"Be happy." His voice brought the chills to Alfred's bones.

"I am happy." US said out loud.

"As long as we're together…" His voice trailed off.

Alfred loved England. He knew he loved England. Even back when he was a child, but the emotion had the tone of childish adoration. The American's feelings to the English nation grew to be affectionate and lustful. Their relation had love and lust in one sentence. He wasn't fully recovered yet, but he knew that one day, Arthur would come to him and Alfred would stop handling the Englishman like a fragile doll in fear of hurting both Arthur and himself. Alfred would learn to trust himself. Alfred would one day learn drop his doubt and begin to smile more. He was not fully cured of doubt, he knew that. The deep wound was starting to heal and fill in the gaps in his heart. The stitches of the Anglo-American relationship were already at work. There was time to heal. The day would eventually come…

Alfred opened his eyes and saw the plane take off. Like a bird, the vehicle rode on the hard surface of the ground, picking up its pace. After several minutes, it finally launched itself into the air, ready for flight. The sound of the plane pierced through the thick glass window Alfred was still standing at.

Alfred would still get his weekly therapies from his doctor. He was no longer diagnosed with D.I.D., but the doctor would continue to run more tests and talks with him. Until he was positive that America had disappeared for good. Somehow, Alfred had a feeling that America would keep his word and remain part of him. Because for once in his life, Alfred felt whole. As a person. There was no apparent empty hold into of him. He could still feel the warmth of England's body against his. He could feel his heart grow warm from the merge of two souls.

I forgive you. Several people had said it. But. Alfred felt that he was now saying it to himself too. He wasn't just saying it to please himself. He really did forgive himself. He said it out loud to test the sound of it. It rang in his ears.

Perhaps he was forgiven after all.

* * *

**Read and review! I'm sorry if the ending seemed too loose. Sorry if it disappoints you. I was typing this the very night before school starts and I got very excited that I was so close to finishing the story. So I apologized if the chapter seemed too rushed. Wow, the story is done. I'm just speechless. I don't know what to say…**

**UK: Finally! It's done!**

**US: Party in the house! *throws Whale-san into the pool***

**RS: I feel sad now…I have nothing else to type now. **

**US: Well, everything has to come to an end. **

**RS: Yeah…I'm glad I decided to finish this big project. I couldn't have done it without you guys' review! Despite my craptastic grammar, most of you guys were patient with me and continued to read on. *gloomy* I need to brush up my grammar… **

**UK: *sigh* They didn't say you had horrid grammar. They said your grammar was awkward at times. **

**RS: Oh. I see. BTW…where did that whale come from? *points at Whale-san***

**US: I carried him from D.C. Why? **

**RS: …No comment**

**UK: Agree. **

**RS: Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading this. You have no idea how much I appreciated your time and patience to deal with me. **

**US: Let's do a triple back cannon ball flip! *throws Whale-san off of the diving board***

**UK & RS: AMERICA!**

**US: HA, HA, HA! **

**RS: I'm surrounded by weirdos! TTATT**


End file.
